LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


TTT 


SWEET   CICELY. 


SWEET    CICELY 


JOSIAH    ALLEN 


POLITICIAN 


BY 


"JOSIAH    ALLEN'S    WIFE" 

(MARIETTA  HOLLEY) 


WITH    ILL  US  TRA  TIONS 


FUNK   &   WAGNALLS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

10  &  12  DEY  STIIEET  44  FLEET  STREET 

All  rights  reserved 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALU  wxJIIA 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1885, 
BY  MARIETTA  HOLLEY. 


[All  rights  reserved.] 
Registered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  Eng 


TO 

THE    SAD-EYED    MOTHERS, 

WHO,   LIKE   CICELY, 

ARE  LOOKING  ACROSS  THE   CRADLE  OF  THEIR 

BOYS  INTO   THE    GREAT   WORLD   OF 

TEMPTATION  AND  DANGER, 

Cf)ts  Eook  is  SctJicatfti. 


PEEFACE. 


JOSIAH  and  me  got  to  talkin'  it  over.  He  said  it  wuzn't 
right  to  think  more  of  one  child  than  you  did  of  another. 

And  I  says,  "  That  is  so,  Josiah." 

And  he  says,  "  Then,  why  did  you  say  yesterday,  that 
you  loved  sweet  Cicely  better  than  any  of  the  rest  of 
your  thought-children  ?  You  said  you  loved  'em  all,  and 
was  kinder  sorry  for  the  hull  on  'em,  but  you  loved  her 
the  best :  what  made  you  say  it  ?  " 

Says  I,  "  I  said  it,  to  tell  the  truth." 

"Wall,  what  did  you  do  \ifor?"  he  kep'  on,  determined 
to  get  a  reason. 

"  I  did  it,"  says  I,  a  comin'  out  still  plainer,  —  "I  did  it 
to  keep  from  lyin'." 

"Wall,  when  you  say  it  hain't  right  to  feel  so,  what 
makes  you?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Josiah,"  says  I,  lookin'  at  him,  and  be- 
yend  him,  way  into  the  depths  of  emotions  and  feelin's 
we  can't  understand  nor  help,  — 

"  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  know  I  do." 

And  he  drawed  on  his  boots,  and  went  out  to  the  barn. 

vii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I 
CHAPTER  II 
CHAPTER  III. 
CHAPTER  IV. 
CHAPTER  V 

CHAPTER  VI 174 

CHAPTER  VII 203 

CHAPTER  VIII 247 

CHAPTER  IX 257 

CHAPTER  X 269 

CHAPTER  XI 309 

CHAPTER  XII 336 

CHAPTER  XIII 353 

CHAPTER  XIV 374 

ix 


SWEET    CICELY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

IT  was  somewhere  about  the  middle  of  winter,  along  in 
the  forenoon,  that  Josiah  Allen  was  telegrafted  to,  unex 
pected.  His  niece  Cicely  and  her  little  boy  was  goin' 
to  pass  through  Jonesville  the  next  day  on  her  way  to 
visit  her  aunt  Mary  (aunt  on  her  mother's  side),  and  she 
would  stop  off,  and  make  us  a  short  visit  if  convenient. 

We  wuz  both  tickled,  highly  tickled ;  and  Josiah,  before 
he  had  read  the  telegraf  ten  minutes,  was  out  killin'  a  hen. 
The  plumpest  one  in  the  flock  was  the  order  I  give ;  and 
I  wus  a  beginnin'  to  make  a  fuss,  and  cook  up  for  her. 

We  loved  her  jest  about  as  well  as  we  did  Tirzah  Ann. 
Sweet  Cicely  was  what  we  used  to  call  her  when  she  was 
a  girl.  Sweet  Cicely  is  a  plant  that  has  a  pretty  white 
posy.  And  our  niece  Cicely  was  prettier  and  purer  and 
sweeter  than  any  posy  that  ever  grew:  so  we  thought 
then,  and  so  we  think  still. 

Her  mother  was  my  companion's  sister,  —  one  of  a  pair 
of  twins,  Mary  and  Maria,  that  thought  the  world  of  each 

other,  as  twins  will.     Their  mother  died  when  they  wus 

i 


JOSIAH  TELLING  THE   NEWS  TO   SAMANTIIA. 


SWEET  CICELY.  3 

both  of  'em  babies ;  and  they  wus  adopted  by  a  rich  aunt, 
who  brought  'em  up  elegant,  and  likely  too :  that  I  will 
say  for  her,  if  she  wus  a  'Piscopal,  and  I  a  Methodist. 
I  am  both  liberal  and  truthful  —  very. 

Maria  wus  Cicely's  ma,  and  she  wus  left  a  widow  when 
she  wus  a  young  woman ;  and  Cicely  wus  her  only  child. 
And  the  two  wus  bound  up  in  each  other  as  I  never  see  a 
mother  and  daughter  in  my  life  before  or  sense. 

The  third  year  after  Josiah  and  me  wus  married,  Maria 
wasn't  well,  and  the  doctor  ordered  her  out  into  the 
country  for  her  health ;  and  she  and  little  Cicely  spent 
the  hull  of  that  summer  with  us.  Cicely  wus  about  ten ; 
and  how  we  did  love  that  girl !  Her  mother  couldn't  bear 
to  have  her  out  of  her  sight ;  and  I  declare,  we  all  of  us 
wus  jest  about  as  bad.  And  from  that  time  they  used  to 
spend  most  all  of  their  summers  in  Jonesville.  The  air 
agreed  with  'em,  and  so  did  I :  we  never  had  a  word  of 
trouble.  And  we  used  to  visit  them  quite  a  good  deal  in 
the  winter  season :  they  lived  in  the  city. 

Wall,  as  Cicely  got  to  be  a  young  girl,  I  used  often  to 
set  and  look  at  her,  and  wonder  if  the  Lord  could  have 
made  a  prettier,  sweeter  girl  if  he  had  tried  to.  She 
looked  to  me  jest  perfect,  and  so  she  did  to  Josiah. 

And  she  knew  so  much,  too,  and  wus  so  womanly  and 
quiet  and  deep.  I  s'pose  it  wus  bein'  always  with  her 
mother  that  made  her  seem  older  and  more  thoughtful 
than  girls  usially  are.  It  seemed  as  if  her  great  dark  eyes 
wus  full  of  wisdom  beyend  —  fur  beyend  —  her  years,  and 
sweetness  too.  Never  wus  there  any  sweeter  eyes  under 
the  heavens  than  those  of  our  niece  Cicely. 

She  wus  very  fair  and  pale,  you  would  think  at  first ; 


4  SWEET  CICELY. 

but,  when  you  would  come  to  look  closer,  you  would  see 
there  was  nothing  sickly  in  her  complexion,  only  it  was 
very  white  and  smooth,  —  a  good  deal  like  the  pure  white 
leaves  of  the  posy  Sweet  Cicely.  She  had  a  gentle,  tender 
mouth,  rose-pink;  and  her  cheeks  wuz,  when  she  would 
get  rousted  up  and  excited  about  any  thing ;  and  then  it 
would  all  sort  o'  die  out  again  into  that  pure  white.  And 
over  all  her  face,  as  sweet  and  womanly  as  it  was,  there 
was  a  look  of  power,  somehow,  a  look  of  strength,  as  if 
she  would  venture  much,  dare  much,  for  them  she  loved. 
She  had  the  gift,  not  always  a  happy  one,  of  loving,  —  a 
strength  of  devotion  that  always  has  for  its  companion- 
trait  a  gift  of  endurance,  of  martyrdom  if  necessary. 

She  would  give  all,  dare  all,  endure  all,  for  them  she 
loved.  You  could  see  that  in  her  face  before  you  had 
been  with  her  long  enough  to  see  it  in  her  life. 

Her  hair  wus  a  soft,  pretty  brown,  about  the  color  of 
her  eyes.  And  she  wus  a  little  body,  slender,  and  sort  o' 
plump  too ;  and  her  arms  and  hands  and  neck  wus  soft 
and  white  as  snow  almost. 

Yes,  we  loved  Cicely :  and  no  one  could  blame  us,  or 
wonder  at  us  for  callin'  her  after  the  posy  Sweet  Cicely ; 
for  she  wus  prettier  than  any  posy  that  ever  blew,  enough 
sight. 

Wall,  she  had  always  said  she  couldn't  live  if  her 
mother  died. 

But  she  did,  poor  little  creeter !  she  did. 

Maria  died  when  Cicely  wus  about  eighteen.  She  had 
always  been  delicate,  and  couldn't  live  no  longer :  so  she 
died.  And  Josiah  and  me  went  right  after  the  poor  child, 
and  brought  her  home  with  us. 


SWEET   CICELY. 


She    lived,    Cicely  did,  because    she    wus   young,  and 
couldn't  die.     And   Josiah  and  me  wus   dretful  good  to 


CICELY. 


her ;  and  many's  the  nights  that  I  have  gone  into  her  room 
when  I'd  hear  her  cryin'  way  along  in  the  night ;  many's 
the  times  I  have  gone  in,  and  took  her  in  my  arms,  and 


6  SWEET  CICELY. 

held  her  there,  and  cried  with  her,  and  soothed  her,  and 
got  her  to  sleep,  and  held  her  in  my  arms  like  a  baby  till 
mornin'. 

Wall,  she  lived  with  us  most  a  year  that  time ;  and  it 
wus  about  two  years  after,  while  she  wus  to  some  of  her 
father's  folks'es  (they  wus  very  rich),  that  she  met  the 
young  man  she  married,  —  Paul  Slide. 

He  wus  a  handsome  young  man,  well-behaved,  only  he 
would  drink  a  little  once  in  a  while :  he'd  got  into  the 
habit  at  college,  where  his  mate  wus  wild,  and  had  his 
turns.  But  he  wus  very  pretty  in  his  manners,  Paul 
was,  —  polite,  good-natured,  generous-dispositioned, — and 
very  rich. 

And  as  to  his  looks,  there  wuzn't  no  earthly  fault  to 
find  with  him,  only  jest  his  chin.  And  I  told  Josiah,  that 
how  Cicely  could  marry  a  man  with  such  a  chin  wus  a 
mystery  to  me. 

And  Josiah  said,  "  What  is  the  matter  with  his  chin  ?  " 

And  I  says,  "  Why,  it  jest  sets  right  back  from  his 
mouth  :  he  hain't  got  no  chin  at  all  hardly,"  says  I.  "  The 
place  where  his  chin  ort  to  be  is  nothin'  but  a  holler 
place  all  filled  up  with  irresolution  and  weakness.  And  I 
believe  Cicely  will  see  trouble  with  that  chin." 

And  then  —  I  well  remember  it,  for  it  was  the  very  first 
time  after  marriage,  and  so,  of  course,  the  very  first  time 
in  our  two  lives  —  Josiah  called  me  a  fool,  a  "  dumb  fool," 
or  jest  the  same  as  called  me  so.  He  says,  "  I  wouldn't 
be  a  dumb  fool  if  I  was  in  your  place." 

I  felt  worked  up.  But,  like  warriors  on  a  battle-field, 
I  grew  stronger  for  the  fray ;  and  the  fray  didn't  scare  me 
none. 


8  SWEET  CICELY. 

But  I  says,  "  You'll  see  if  you  live,  Josiah  Allen ; "  and 
he  did. 

But,  as  I  said,  1  didn't  see  how  Cicely  ever  fell  in  love 
with  a  man  Avith  such  a  chin.  But,  as  I  learned  after 
wards,  she  fell  in  love  with  him  under  a  fur  collar.  It  wus 
on  a  slay-ride.  And  he  wuz  very  handsome  from  his 
mouth  up,  very :  his  mouth  wuz  ruther  weak.  It  wus  a 
case  of  love  at  first  sight,  which  I  believe  in  considerable ; 
and  she  couldn't  help  lovin'  him,  women  are  so  queer. 

I  had  always  said  that  when  Cicely  did  love,  it  would 
go  hard  with  her.  Many's  the  offers  she'd  had,  but  didn't 
care  for  'em.  But  I  knew,  with  her  temperament  and 
nater,  that  love,  if  it  did  come  to  her,  would  come  to 
stay,  and  it  would  come  hard  and  voyalent.  And  so  it 
did. 

She  worshipped  him,  as  I  said  at  first,  under  a  fur  collar. 
And  then,  when  a  woman  once  gets  to  lovin'  a  man  as  she 
did,  why,  she  can't  help  herself,  chin  or  no  chin.  When 
a  woman  has  once  thro  wed  herself  in  front  of  her  idol,  it 
hain't  so  much  matter  whether  it  is  stuffed  full  of  gold,  or 
holler:  it  hain't  so  much  matter  what  they  be,  1  think. 
Curius,  hain't  it? 

It  hain't  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  for  such  a  woman 
as  Cicely  to  love,  but  it  is  a  good  deal  easier  for  her  than 
to  unlove,  as  she  found  out  afterwards.  For  twice  before 
her  marriage  she  saw  him  out  of  his  head  with  liquor  ;  and 
it  wus  my  advice  to  her,  to  give  him  up. 

And  she  tried  to  unlove  him,  tried  to  give  him  up. 

But,  good  land !  she  might  jest  as  well  have  took  a  piece 
of  her  own  heart  out,  as  to  take  out  of  it  her  love  for  him : 
it  had  become  a  part  of  her.  And  he  told  her  she  could 


SWEET  CICELY.  9 

save  him,  her  influence  could  redeem  him,  and  it  wus  the 
only  thing  that  could  save  him. 

And  Cicely  couldn't  stand  such  talk,  of  course  ;  and  she 
believed  him — believed  that  she  could  love  him  so  well, 
throw  her  influence  so  around  him,  as  to  hold  him  back 
from  any  evil  course. 

It  is  a  beautiful  hope,  the  very  beautifulest  and  divinest 
piece  of  folly  a  woman  can  commit.  Beautiful  enough  in 
the  sublime  martyrdom  of  the  idee,  to  make  angels  smile ; 
and  vain  enough,  and  foolish  enough  in  its  utter  useless- 
ness,  to  make  sinners  weep.  It  can't  be  done  —  not  in  98 
cases  out  of  a  100  at  least. 

Why,  if  a  man  hain't  got  love  enough  for  a  woman  when 
he  is  tryin'  to  win  her  affection,  —  when  he  is  on  proba 
tion,  as  you  may  say,  —  to  stop  and  turn  round  in  his 
downward  course,  how  can  she  expect  he  will  after  he  has 
got  her,  and  has  let  down  his  watch,  so  to  speak  ? 

But  she  loved  him.  And  when  I  warned  her  with  tears 
in  my  eyes,  warned  her  that  mebby  it  wus  more  than  her 
own  safety  and  happiness  that  wus  imperilled,  I  could  see 
by  the  look  in  her  eyes,  though  she  didn't  say  much,  that 
it  wasn't  no  use  for  me  to  talk ;  for  she  wus  one  of  the 
constant  natures  that  can't  wobble  round.  And  though  I 
don't  like  wobblin',  still  I  do  honestly  believe  that  the 
wobblers  are  happier  than  them  that  can't  wobble. 

I  could  see  jest  how  it  wuz,  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  have 
her  blamed.  And  I  would  tell  folks,  —  some  of  the  rela 
tions  on  her  mother's  side,  —  when  they  would  say,  "  What 
a  fool  she  wus  to  have  him ! "  —  I'd  say  to  'em,  "  Wall, 
when  a  woman  sees  the  man  she  loves  goin'  down  to  ruin 
ation,  and  tries  to  unlove  him,  she'll  find  out  jest  how 


10 


SWEET  CICELY. 


much  harder  it  is  to  unlove  him  than  to  love  him  in  the 
first  place  :  they'll  find  out  it  is  a  tough  job  to  tackle." 

I   said   this  to   blamers  of  Cicely   (relatives,  the  best 
blamers  you  can  find  anywhere).     But,  at  the  same  time, 


SAMANTHA   AND   THE    "BLAMERS. 


it  would  have  been  my  way,  when  he  had  come  a  courtin' 
me  so  far  gone  with  liquor  that  he  could  hardly  stand  up  — 
why,  I  should  have  told  him  plain,  that  I  wouldn't  try 
to  set  myself  up  as  a  rival  to  alcohol,  and  he  might  pay  to 
that  his  attentions  exclusively  hereafter. 

But  she  didn't.     And  he  promised  sacred  to  abstain, 


SWEET  CICELY.  11 

and  could,  and  did,  for  most  a  year;  and  she  married 
him. 

But,  jest  before  the  marriage,  I  got  so  rousted  up 
a  thinkin'  about  what  I  had  heard  of  him  at  college, — 
and  I  studied  on  his  picture,  which  she  had  sent  me,  took 
sideways  too,  and  I  could  see  plain  (why,  he  hadn't  no 
chin  at  all,  as  you  may  say ;  and  his  lips  was  weak  and 
waverin'  as  ever  lips  was,  though  sort  o'  amiable  and  fas 
cinating), —  and  I  got  to  forebodin'  so  about  that  chin, 
and  my  love  for  her  wus  a  hunchin'  me  up  so  all  the  time, 
that  I  went  to  see  her  on  a  short  tower,  to  beset  her  on 
the  subject.  But,  good  land !  I  might  have  saved  my 
breath,  I  might  have  saved  my  tower. 

I  cried,  and  she  cried  too.  And  I  says  to  her  before  I 
thought,  — 

"He'll  be  the  ruin  of  you,  Cicety." 

And  she  says,  "  I  would  rather  be  beaten  by  his  hand, 
than  to  be  crowned  by  another.  Why,  I  love  him,  aunt 
Samantha." 

You  see,  that  meant  a  awful  sight  to  her.  And  as  she 
looked  at  me  so  earnest  and  solemn,  with  tears  in  them 
pretty  brown  eyes,  there  wus  in  her  look  all  that  that 
word  could  possibly  mean  to  any  soul. 

Bat  I  cried  into  my  white  linen  handkerchief,  and 
couldn't  help  it,  and  couldn't  help  sayin',  as  I  see  that 
look,  — 

"  Cicely,  I  am  afraid  he  will  break  your  heart  —  kill 
you"- 

"  Why,  I  am  not  afraid  to  die  when  I  am  with  him.  I 
am  afraid  of  nothing  —  of  life,  or  death,  or  eternity." 

Well,  I  see  my  talk  was  no  use.     I  see  she'd  have  him, 


12  SWEET  CICELY. 

chin  or  no  chin.  If  I  could  have  taken  her  up  in  my 
arms,  and  run  away  with  her  then  and  there,  how  much 
misery  I  could  have  saved  her  from !  But  I  couldn't :  I 
had  the  rheumatiz.  And  I  had  to  give  up,  and  go  home 
disapp'inted,  but  carryin'  this  thought  home  with  me  011 
my  tower,  —  that  I  had  done  my  duty  by  our  sweet 
Cicely,  and  could  do  no  more. 

As  I  said,  he  promised  firm  to  give  up  drinking.  But, 
good  land!  what  could  you  expect  from  that  chin?  That 
chin  couldn't  stand  temptation  if  it  came  in  his  way. 
At  the  same  time,  his  love  for  Cicely  was  such,  and  his 
good  heart  and  his  natural  gentlemanly  intuitions  was 
such,  that,  if  he  could  have  been  kep'  out  of  the  way  of 
temptation,  he  would  have  been  all  right. 

If  there  hadn't  been  drinking-saloons  right  in  front  of 
that  chin,  if  it  could  have  walked  along  the  road  without 
runnin'  right  into  'em,  i't  would  have  got  along.  That 
chin,  and  them  waverin'-lookin',  amiable  lips,  wouldn't 
have  stirred  a  step  out  of  their  ways  to  get  ruined  and 
disgraced :  they  wouldn't  have  took  the  trouble  to. 

And  for  a  year  or  so  he  and  the  chin  kep'  out  of  the 
way  of  temptation,  or  ruther  temptation  kep'  out  of  their 
way ;  and  Cicely  was  happy,  —  radiently  happy,  as  only 
such  a  nature  as  hern  can  be.  Her  face  looked  like  a 
mornin'  in  June,  it  wus  so  bright,  and  glowing  with  joy 
and  happy  love. 

I  visited  her,  stayed  3  days  and  2  nights  with  her ;  and 
I  almost  forgot  to  forebode  about  the  lower  part  of  his 
face,  I  found  'em  so  happy  and  prosperous  and  likely. 

Paul  wus  very  rich.  He  wus  the  only  child :  and  his 
pa  left  2  thirds  of  his  property  to  him,  and  the  other  third 


SWEET  CICELY.  13 

to  his  ma,  which  wus  more  than  she  could  ever  use  while 
she  wus  alive ;  and  at  her  death  it  wus  to  go  to  Paul  and 
his  heirs. 

They  owned  most  all  of  the  village  they  lived  in.  His 
pa  had  owned  the  township  the  village  was  built  on,  and 
had  built  most  all  the  village  himself,  and  rented  the  build 
ings.  He  owned  a  big  manufactory  there,  and  the  buildings 
rented  high. 

Wall,  it  wus  in  the  second  year  of  their  marriage  that 
that  old  college  chumb  —  (and  I  wish  he  had  been  chumbed 
by  a  pole,  before  he  had  ever  gone  there).  He  had  lost  his 
property,  and  come  down  in  the  world,  and  had  to  work  for 
a  livin' ;  moved  into  that  village,  and  opened  a  drinking- 
saloon  and  billiard-room. 

He  had  been  Paul's  most  intimate  friend  at  college,  and 
his  evil  genius,  so  his  mother  said.  But  he  was  bright, 
witty,  generous  in  a  way,  unprincipled,  dissipated.  And 
he  wanted  Paul's  company,  and  he  wanted  Paul's  money ; 
and  he  had  a  chin  himself,  and  knew  how  to  manage  them 
that  hadn't  any. 

Wall,  Cicely  and  his  mother  tried  to  keep  Paul  from  that 
bad  influence.  But  he  said  it  would  look  shabby  to  not 
take  any  notice  of  a  man  because  he  wus  down  in  the 
world.  He  wouldn't  have  much  to  do  with  him,  but  it 
wouldn't  do  to  not  notice  him  at  all.  How  curius,  that 
out  of  good  comes  bad,  and  out  of  bad,  good.  That  was 
a  good-natured  idee  of  Paul's  if  he  had  had  a  chin  that 
could  have  held  up  his  principle  ;  but  he  didn't. 

So  he  gradually  fell  under  the  old  influence  again.  He 
didn't  mean  to.  He  hadn't  no  idee  of  doin'  so  when  he 
begun.  It  was  the  chin. 


14  SWEET  CICELY. 

He  begun  to  drink  hard,  spent  his  nights  in  the  saloon, 
gambled,  —  slipped  right  down  the  old,  smooth  track  worn 
by  millions  of  jest  such  weak  feet,  towards  ruin.  And 
Cicely  couldn't  hold  him  back  after  he  had  got  to  slippin' : 
her  arms  wuzn't  strong  enough. 

She  went  to  the  saloon-keeper,  and  cried,  and  begged  of 
him  not  to  sell  her  husband  any  more  liquor.  He  was 
very  polite  to  her,  very  courteous:  everybody  was  to 
Cicely.  But  in  a  polite  way  he  told  her  that  Paul  wus 
his  best  customer,  and  he  shouldn't  offend  him  by  refusing 
to  sell  him  liquor.  She  knelt  at  his  feet,  I  hearn,  —  her 
little,  tender  limbs  011  that  rough  floor  before  that  evil 
man,  —  and  wept,  and  said,  — 

"  For  the  sake  of  her  boy,  wouldn't  he  have  mercy  on 
the  boy's  father." 

But  in  a  gentle  way  he  gave  her  to  understand  that  he 
shouldn't  make  no  change. 

And  he  told  her,  speakin'  in  a  dretful  courteous  way, 
"  that  he  had  the  law  on  his  side :  he  had  a  license,  and 
he  should  keep  right  on  as  he  was  doing." 

And  so  what  could  Cicely  do  ?  And  time  went  on,  carry- 
in'  Paul  further  and  further  down  the  road  that  has  but 
one  ending.  Lower  and  lower  he  sunk,  carryin'  her  heart, 
her  happiness,  her  life,  down  with  him. 

And  they  said  one  cold  night  Paul  didn't  come  home  at 
all,  and  Cicely  and  his  mother  wus  half  crazy ;  and  they 
wus  too  proud,  to  the  last,  to  tell  the  servants  more  than 
they  could  help :  so,  when  it  got  to  be  most  mornin',  them 
two  delicate  women  started  out  through  the  deep  snow,  to 
try  to  find  him,  tremblin'  at  every  little  heap  of  snow  that 
wus  tumbled  up  in  the  path  in  front  of  'em ;  tremblin' 


CICELY   IN   THE   SALOON. 


16  SWEET  CICELY. 

and  sick  at  heart  with  the  agony  and  dread  that  wus 
rackin'  their  souls,  as  they  would  look  over  the  cold  fields 
of  snow  stretching  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and  thinkin' 
how  that  face  would  look  if  it  wus  lying  there  staring 
with  lifeless  eyes  up  towards  the  cold  moonlight,  —  the 
face  they  had  kissed,  the  face  they  had  loved,  —  and  think- 
in',  too,  that  the  change  that  had  come  to  it  —  was  comin' 
to  it  all  the  time  —  was  more  cruel  and  hopeless  than  the 
change  of  death. 

So  they  went  on,  clear  to  the  saloon ;  and  there  they 
found  him,  —  there  he  lay,  perfectly  stupid,  and  dead  Avith 
liquor. 

And  they  both,  the  broken-hearted  mother  and  the 
broken-hearted  wife,  with  the  tears  running  down  their 
white  cheeks,  besought  the  saloon-keeper  to  let  him  alone 
from  that  night. 

The  mother  says,  "Paul  is  so  good,  that  if  you  did 
not  tempt  him,  entice  him  here,  he  would,  out  of  pity  to 
us,  stop  his  evil  ways." 

And  the  saloon-keeper  was  jest  as  polite  as  any  man 
wus  ever  seen  to  be,  —  took  his  hat  off  while  he  told  'em, 
so  I  hearn,  "that  he  couldn't  go  against  his  own  in 
terests  :  if  Paul  chose  to  spend  his  money  there,  he  should 
take  it." 

"  Will  you  break  our  hearts  ?  "  cried  the  mother. 

"  Will  you  ruin  my  husband,  the  father  of  my  boy  ? " 
sobbed  out  Cicely,  her  big,  sorrowful  eyes  lookin'  right 
through  his  soul  —  if  he  had  a  soul.  ' 

And  then  the  man,  in  a  pleasant  tone,  reminded  'em,  — 

"That  it  wuzn't  him  that  wus  a  doin'  this.  It  wus  the 
law :  if  they  wanted  things  changed,  they  must  look  fur- 


SWEET  CICELY.  17 

ther  than  him.  He  had  a  license.  The  great  Government 
of  the  United  States  had  sold  him,  for  a  few  dollars,  the 
right  to  do  just  what  he  was  doing.  The  law,  and  all 
the  respectability  that  the  laws  of  our  great  and  glorious 
Republic  can  give,  bore  him  out  in  all  his  acts.  The  law 
was  responsible  for  all  the  consequenses  of  his  acts :  the 
men  were  responsible  who  voted  for  license  —  it  was  not 
him." 

"  But  you  can  do  what  we  ask  if  you  will,  out  of  pity 
to  Paul,  pity  to  us  who  love  him  so,  and  who  are  forced  to 
stand  by  powerless,  and  see  him  going  to  ruin  —  we  who 
would  die  for  him  willingly  if  it  would  do  any  good. 
You  can  do  this." 

He  was  a  little  bit  intoxicated,  or  he  wouldn't  have  gin 
'em  the  cruel  sneer  he  did  at  the  last,  —  though  he  sneered 
polite,  —  a  holdin'  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"As  I  said,  my  dear  madam,  it  is  not  I,  it  is  the  law  ;  and 
I  see  no  other  way  for  you  ladies  who  feel  so  about  it,  only 
to  vote,  and  change  the  laws." 

"Would  to  God  I  could!"  said  the  old  white-haired 
mother,  with  her  solemn  eyes  lifted  to  the  heavens,  in 
which  Avas  her  only  hope. 

"  Would  to  God  I  could ! "  repeated  my  sweet  Cicely, 
with  her  eyes  fastened  on  the  face  of  him  who  had  prom 
ised  to  cherish  her,  and  comfort  her,  and  protect  her,  lay- 
in'  there  at  her  feet,  a  mark  for  jeers  and  sneers,  unable 
to  speak  a  word,  or  lift  his  hand,  if  his  wife  and  mother 
had  been  killed  before  him. 

But  they  couldn't  do  any  thing.  They  would  have  lain 
their  lives  down  for  him  at  any  time,  but  that  wouldn't  do 
any  good.  The  lowest,  most  ignorant  laborer  in  their  em- 


18  SWEET   CICELY. 

ploy  had  power  in  this  matter,  but  they  had  none.  They 
had  intellectual  power  enough,  which,  added  to  their  utter 
helplessness,  only  made  their  burden  more  unendurable ; 
for  they  comprehended  to  the  full  the  knowledge  of  what 
was  past,  and  what  must  come  in  the  future  unless  help 
came  quickly.  They  had  the  strength  of  devotion,  the 
strength  of  unselfish  love. 

They  had  the  will,  but  they  hadn't  nothin'  to  tackle  it 
onto  him  with,  to  draw  him  back.  For  their  prayers,  their 
midnight  watches,  their  tears,  did  not  avail,  as  I  said  :  they 
went  jest  so  far ;  they  touched  him,  but  they  lacked  the 
tacklin'-power  that  was  wanted  to  grip  holt  of  him,  and 
draw  him  back.  What  they  needed  was  the  justice  of  the 
law  to  tackle  the  injustice  ;  and  they  hadn't  got  it,  and 
couldn't  get  holt  of  it:  so  they  had  to  set  with  hands 
folded,  or  lifted  to  the  heavens  in  wild  appeal, — either 
way  didn't  help  Paul  any,  —  and  see  him  a  sinkin'  and 
a  sinkin',  slippin'  further  and  further  down  ;  and  they  had 
to  let  him  go. 

He  drunk  harder  and  harder,  neglected  his  business,  got 
quarrelsome.  And  one  night,  when  the  heavens  was  cur 
tained  with  blackness,  like  a  pall  let  down  to  cover  the  ac 
cursed  scene,  he  left  Cicely  with  her  pretty  baby  asleep  on 
her  bosom,  went  down  to  the  saloon,  got  into  a  quarrel 
with  that  very  friend  of  hisen,  the  saloon-keeper,  over  a 
game  of  billiards,  —  they  was  both  intoxicated,  —  and  then 
and  there  Paul  committed  murder,  and  would  have  been 
hung  for  it  if  he  hadn't  died  in  State's  prison  the  night 
before  he  got  his  sentence. 

Awful  deed  !  Dreadful  fate  !  But  no  worse,  as  I  told 
Josiah  when  he  wus  a  groanin'  over  it ;  no  worse,  I  told  the 


PAUL   SHOOTING  HIS   FRIEND. 


20  SWEET  CICELY. 

children  when  they  was  a  cryin'  over  it ;  no  worse,  T  told 
my  own  heart  when  the  tears  was  a  runnin'  down  my 
face  like  rain-water,  —  no  worse  because  Cicely  happened 
to  be  our  relation,  and  we  loved  her  as  we  did  our  own 
eyes. 

And  our  broad  land  is  full  of  jest  such  sufferin's,  jest 
such  crimes,  jest  such  disgrace,  caused  by  the  same  cause  ; 
—  as  I  told  Josiah,  suffering,  disgrace,  and  crime  made 
legal  and  protected  by  the  law. 

And  Josiah  squirmed  as  I  said  it ;  and  I  see  him  squirm, 
for  he  believed  in  it :  he  believed  in  licensing  this  shame 
and  disgrace  and  woe ;  he  believed  in  makin'  it  respect 
able,  and  wrappin'  round  it  the  mantilly  of  the  law,  to  keep 
it  in  a  warm,  healthy,  flourishin'  condition.  Why,  he  had 
helped  do  it  himself ;  he  had  helped  the  United  States  lift 
up  the  mantilly ;  he  had  voted  for  it. 

He  squirmed,  but  turned  it  off  by  usin'  his  bandana  hard, 
and  sayin',  in  a  voice  all  choked  down  with  grief,  — 

"  Oh,  poor  Cicely  !  poor  girl !  " 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  " '  poor  girl ! '  and  the  law  you  uphold 
has  made  her  '  poor  girl '  —  has  killed  her  ;  for  she  won't 
live  through  it,  and  you  and  .the  United  States  will  see 
that  she  won't." 

He  squirmed  hard ;  and  my  feelin's  for  him  are  such  that 
I  can't  bear  to  see  him  squirm  voyalently,  as  much  as  I 
blamed  him  and  the  United  Stales,  and  as  mad  as  I  was  at 
both  on  'em. 

So  I  went  to  cryin'  agin  silently  under  my  linen  hand 
kerchief,  and  he  cried  into  his  bandana.  It  wus  a  awful 
blow  to  both  on  us. 

Wall,  she  lived,  Cicely  did,  which  was  more  than  we  any 


SWEET  CICELY.  21 

one  of  us  thought  she  could  do.  I  went  right  there,  and 
stayed  six  weeks  with  her,  hangin'  right  over  her  bed, 
night  and  day;  and  so  did  his  mother,  —  she  a  broken 
hearted  woman  too.  Her  heart  broke,  too,  by  the  United 
States ;  and  so  I  told  Josiah,  that  little  villain  that  got 
killed  was  only  one  of  his  agents.  Yes,  her  heart  was 
broke ;  but  she  bore  up  for  Cicely's  sake  and  the  boy's. 
For  it  seemed  as  if  she  felt  remorsful,  and  as  if  it  was  for 
them  that  belonged  to  him  who  had  ruined  her  life,  to  help 
her  all  they  could. 

Wall,  after  about  three  weeks  Cicely  begun  to  live. 
And  so  I  wrote  to  Josiah  that  I  guessed  she  would  keep 
on  a  livin'  now,  for  the  sake  of  the  boy. 

And  so  she  did.  And  she  got  up  from  that  bed  a 
shadow,  —  a  faint,  pale  shadow  of  the  girl  that  used  to 
brighten  up  our  home  for  us.  She  was  our  sweet  Cicely 
still.  But  she  looked  like  that  posy  after  the  frost  has 
withered  it,  and  with  the  cold  moonlight  layin'  on  it. 

Good  and  patient  she  wuz,  and  easy  to  get  along  with; 
for  she  seemed  to  hold  earthly  things  with  a  dretful  loose 
grip,  easy  to  leggo  of  'em.  And  it  didn't  seem  as  if  she 
had  any  interest  at  all  in  life,  or  care  for  any  thing  that 
was  a  goin'  on  in  the  world,  till  the  boy  wus  about  four 
years  old ;  and  then  she  begun  to  get  all  rousted  up  about 
him  and  his  future.  "  She  must  live,"  she  said  :  "  she  had 
got  to  live,  to  do  something  to  help  him  in  the  future. 

"She  couldn't  die,"  she  told  me,  "and  leave  him  in  a 
world  that  was  so  hard  for  boys,  where  temptations  and 
danger  stood  all  round  her  boy's  pathway.  Not  only  hid 
den  perils,  concealed  from  sight,  so  he  might  possibly  es 
cape  them,  but  open  temptations,  open  dangers,  made  as 


22 


SWEET  CICELY. 


alluring  as  private  avarice  could  make  them,  and  made  as 
respectable  as  dignified  legal  enactments  could  make  them, 
—  all  to  draw  her  boy  doAvn  the  pathway  his  poor  father 


CICELY    AND   THE   BOY. 


descended."  For  one  of  the  curius  things  about  Cicely 
wuz,  she  didn't  seem  to  blame  Paul  hardly  a  mite,  nor  not 
so  very  much  the  one  that  enticed  him  to  drink.  She 


SWEET  CICELY.  23 

went  back  further  than  them :  she  laid  the  blame  onto  our 
laws ;  she  laid  the  responsibility  onto  the  ones  that  made 
'em,  directly  and  indirectly,  the  legislators  and  the  voters. 

Curius  that  Cicely  should  feel  so,  when  most  every 
body  said  that  he  could  have  stopped  drinking  if  he  had 
wanted  to.  But  then,  I  don't  know  as  I  could  blame  her 
for  feelin'  so  when  I  thought  of  Paul's  chin  and  lips. 
Why,  anybody  that  had  them  on  'ern,  and  was  made  up 
inside  and  outside  according  as  folks  be  that  have  them 
looks ;  why,  'unless  they  was  specially  guarded  by  good 
influences,  and  fenced  off  from  bad  ones, — why,  they  could 
not  exert  any  self-denial  and  control  and  firmness. 

Why,  I  jest  followed  that  chin  and  that  mouth  right 
back  through  seven  generations  of  the  Slide  family. 
Paul's  father  wus  a  good  man,  had  a  good  face ;  took  it 
from  his  mother:  but  his  father,  Paul's  grandfather,  died 
a  drunkard.  They  have  got  a  oil-portrait  of  him  at  Paul's 
old  home :  I  stopped  there  on  my  way  home  from  Cicely's 
one  time.  And  for  all  the  world  he  looked  most  exactly 
like  Paul,  —  the  same  sort  of  a  irresolute,  handsome,  weak, 
fascinating  look  to  him.  And  all  through  them  portraits 
I  could  trace  that  chin  and  them  lips.  They  would  dis 
appear  in  some  of  'em,  but  crop  out  agin  further  back. 
And  I  asked  the  housekeeper,  who  had  always  lived  in 
the  family,  and  wus  proud  of  it,  but  honest;  and  she 
knew  the  story  of  the  hull  Slide  race. 

And  she  said  that  every  one  of  'em  that  had  that  face 
had  traits  accordin' ;  and  'most  every  one  of  'em  got  into 
trouble  of  some  kind. 

One  or  two  of  'em,  specially  guarded,  I  s'pose,  by  good 
influences,  got  along  with  no  further  trouble  than  the  loss 


24  SWEET  CICELY. 

of  the  chin,  and  the  feelin'  they  must  have  had  inside  of 
'em,  that  they  wuz  liable  to  crumple  right  down  any 
minute. 

And  as  they  wus  made  with  jest  them  looks,  and  jest 
them  traits,  born  so,  entirety  unbeknown  to  them,  I 
don't  know  as  I  can  blame  Cicely  for  feelin'  as  she  did.  If 
temptation  hadn't  stood  right  in  the  road  in  front  of 
him,  why,  he'd  have  got  along,  and  lived  happy.  That's 
Cicely's  idee.  And  I  don't  know  but  she's  in  the  right 
ont. 

But  as  I  said,  when  her  child  wus  about  four  years  old, 
Cicely  took  a  turn,  and  begun  to  get  all  worked  up  and 
excited  by  turns  a  worryin'  about  the  boy.  She'd  talk 
about  it  a  sight  to  me,  and  I  hearn  it  from  others. 

She  rousted  up  out  of  her  deathly  weakness  and  heart 
broken,  stunted  calm,  —  for  such  it  seemed  to  be  for  the 
first  two  or  three  years  after  her  husband's  death.  She 
seemed  to  make  an  effort  almost  like  that  of  a  dead  man 
throwin'  off  the  icy  stupor  of  death,  and  risin'  up  with 
numbed  limbs,  and  shakin'  off  the  death-robes,  and  livin' 
agin.  She  rousted  up  with  jest  such  a  effort,  so  it 
seemed,  for  the  boy's  sake. 

She  must  live  for  the  boy ;  she  must  work  for  the  boy ; 
she  must  try  to  throw  some  safeguards  around  his  future. 
What  could  she  do  to  help  him  ?  That  wus  the  question 
that  was  a  hantin'  her  soul. 

It  wus  jest  like  death  for  her  to  face  the  curius  gaze  of 
the  world  again  ;  for,  like  a  wounded  animal,  she  had 
wanted  to  crawl  away,  and  hide  her  cruel  woe  and  dis 
grace  in  some  sheltered  spot,  away  from  the  sharp-sot  eyes 
of  the  babblin'  world. 


SWEET  CICELY.  25 

But  she  endured  it.  She  came  out  of  her  quiet  home, 
where  her  heart  had  bled  in  secret ;  she  came  out  into 
society  again ;  and  she  did  every  thing  she  could,  in  her 
gentle,  quiet  way.  She  joined  temperance  societies,  — 
helped  push  'em  forward  with  her  money  and  her  influ 
ence.  With  other  white-souled  wimmen,  gentle  and  refined 
as  she  was,  she  went  into  rough  bar-rooms,  and  knelt  on 
their  floors,  and  prayed  what  her  sad  heart  wus  full  of,  — 
for  pity  and  mercy  for  her  boy,  and  other  mothers'  boys,  — 
prayed  with  that  fellowship  of  suffering  that  made  her 
sweet  voice  as  pathetic  as  tears,  and  patheticker,  so  I  have 
been  told. 

But  one  thing  hurt  her  influence  dretfully,  and  almost 
broke  her  own  heart.  Paul  had  left  a  very  large  property, 
but  it  wus  all  in  the  hands  of  an  executor  until  the  boy 
wus  of  age.  He  wus  to  give  Cicely  a  liberal,  a  very  lib 
eral,  sum  every  year,  but  wus  to  manage  the  property  jest 
as  he  thought  best. 

He  wus  a  good  business  man,  and  one  that  meant  to  do 
middlin'  near  right,  but  wus  close  for  a  bargain,  and  sot, 
awful  sot.  And  though  he  wus  dretful  polite,  and  made  a 
stiddy  practice  right  along  of  callin'  wimmen  u  angels," 
still  he  would  not  brook  a  woman's  interference. 

Wall,  he  could  get  such  big  rents  for  drinkin'-saloons, 
that  four  of  Cicely's  buildings  wus  rented  for  that  pur 
pose  ;  and  there  wus  one  billiard-room.  And  what  made 
it  worse  for  Cicely  seemin'ly,  it  wus  her  own  property,  that 
she  brought  to  Paul  when  she  wus  married,  that  wus  in 
vested  in  these  buildings.  At  that  time  they  wus  rented 
for  dry-goods  stores,  and  groceries.  But  the  business 
of  the  manufactories  had  increased  greatly ;  and  there  wus 


26  SWEET  CICELY. 

three  times  the  population  now  there  wus  when  she  went 
there  to  live,  and  more  saloons  wus  needed  ;  and  these 
buildings  wus  handy ;  and  the  executer  had  big  prices 
offered  to  him,  and  he  would  rent  'em  as  he  wanted  to. 
And  then,  he  wus  something  of  a  statesman  ;  and  he  felt, 
as  many  business  men  did,  that  they  wus  fairly  sufferin' 
for  more  saloons  to  enrich  the  government. 

Why,  out  of  every  hundred  dollars  that  them  poor 
laboring-men  had  earned  so  hardly,  and  paid  into  the 
saloons  for  that  which,  of  course,  wus  ruinous  to  them 
selves  and  families,  and,  of  course,  rendered  them  inca 
pable  of  all  labor  for  a  great  deal  of  the  time,  —  why,  out 
of  that  hundred  dollars,  as  many  as  2  cents  would  go  to 
the  government  to  enrich  it. 

Of  course,  the  government  had  to  use  them  2  cents  right 
off  towards  buyin'  tight-jackets  to  confine  the  madmen 
the  whiskey  had  made,  and  poorho use-doors  for  the  idiots 
it  had  breeded,  to  lean  up  aginst,  and  buryin'  the  paupers, 
and  buyin'  ropes  to  hang  the  murderers  it  had  created. 

But  still,  in  some  strange  way,  too  deep,  fur  too  deep, 
for  a  woman's  mind  to  comprehend,  it  wus  dretful  profit 
able  to  the  government. 

Now,  if  them  poor  laborin'-men  had  paid  that  2  cents 
of  thiern  to  the  government  themselves,  in  the  first  place, 
in  direct  taxation,  why,  that  wouldn't  have  been  states 
manship.  That  is  a  deep  study,  and  has  a  great  many 
curius  performances,  and  it  has  to  perform. 

Cicely  tried  her  very  best  to  get  the  executor  to  change 
in  this  one  matter ;  but  she  couldn't  move  him  the  width 
of  a  horse-hair,  and  he  a  smilin'  all  the  time  at  her,  and 
polite.  He  liked  Cicely:  nobody  could  help  likin'  the 


UNCLE   SAM    ENRICHING   THE    GOVERNMENT. 


28  SWEET  CICELY. 

gentle,  saintly-souled  little  woman.  But  he  wus  sot :  he 
wus  makin'  money  fast  by  it,  and  she  had  to  give  up. 

And  rough  men  and  women  would  sometimes  twit  her 
of  it,  —  of  her  property  bein'  used  to  advance  the  liquor- 
traffic,  and  ruin  men  and  wimmen ;  and  she  a  feelin'  like 
death  about  it,  and  her  hands  tied  up,  and  powerless.  No 
wonder  that  her  face  got  whiter  and  whiter,  and  her  eyes 
bigger  and  mournfuller-lookin'. 

Wall,  she  kep'  on,  tryin'  to  do  all  she  could :  she  joined 
the  Woman's  Temperance  Union ;  she  spent  her  money 
free  as  water,  where  she  thought  it  would  do  any  good, 
and  brought  up  the  boy  jest  as  near  right  as  she  could 
possibly  bring  him  up;  and  she  prayed,  and  wept  right 
when  she  wus  a  bringin'  of  him,  a  thinkin'  that  her  prop 
erty  wus  a  bein'  used  every  day  and  every  hour  in  ruinin' 
other  mothers'  boys.  And  the  boy's  face  almost  breakin' 
her  heart  every  time  she  looked  at  it ;  for,  though  he  wus 
jest  as  pretty  as  a  child  could  be,  the  pretty  rosy  lips  had 
the  same  good-tempered,  irresolute  curve  to  'em  that  the 
boy  inherited  honestly.  And  he  had  the  same  weak,  wa- 
verin'  chin.  It  was  white  and  rosy  now,  with  a  dimple 
right  in  the  centre,  sweet  enough  to  kiss.  But  the  chin 
wus  there,  right  under  the  rosy  snow  and  the  dimple  ;  and 
I  foreboded,  too,  and  couldn't  blame  Cicely  a  mite  for  her 
forebodin',  and  her  agony  of  sole. 

I  noticed  them  lips  and  that  chin  the  very  minute 
Josiah  brought  him  into  the  settin'-room,  and  set  him 
down ;  and  my  eyes  looked  dubersome  at  him  through  my 
specks.  Cicely  see  it,  see  that  dubersome  look,  though 
I  tried  to  turn  it  off  by  kissin'  him  jest  as  hearty  as  I 
could  after  I  had  took  the  little  black-robed  figure  of  his 


SWEET  CICELY.  29 

mother,  and  hugged  her  close  to  my  heart,  and  kissed  her 
time  and  time  agin. 

She  always  dressed  in  the  deepest  of  mournin',  and 
always  would.  I  knew  that. 

Wall,  we  wus  awful  glad  to  see  Cicely.  I  had  had  the 
old  fireplace  fixed  in  the  front  spare  room,  and  a  crib 
put  in  there  for  the  boy ;  and  I  went  right  up  to  her  room 
with  her.  And  when  we  had  got  there,  I  took  her  right 
in  my  arms  agin,  as  I  used  to,  and  told  her  how  glad  I 
wus,  and  how  thankful  I  wus,  to  have  her  and  the  boy 
with  us. 

The  fire  sparkled  up  on  the  old  brass  handirons  as 
warm  as  'my  welcome.  Her  bed  and  the  boy's  bed  looked 
white  and  cozy  aginst  the  dark  red  of  the  carpet  and  the 
cream-colored  paper.  And  after  I  had  lowered  the  pretty 
ruffled  muslin  curtains  (with  red  ones  under  'em),  and 
pulled  a  stand  forward,  and  lit  a  lamp,  —  it  wus  sundown, 
—  the  room  looked  cheerful  enough  for  anybody,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  Cicely  looked  a  little  less  white  and  broken 
hearted.  She  wus  glad  to  be  with  me,  and  said  she  wuz. 
But  right  there  —  before  supper ;  and  we  could  smell  the 
roast  chicken  and  coffee,  havin'  left  the  stair-door  open  — 
right  there,  before  we  had  visited  hardly  any,  or  talked  a 
mite  about  other  wimmen,  she  begun  on  what  she  wanted 
to  do,  and  what  she  must  do,  for  the  boy. 

I  had  told  her  how  the  boy  had  grown,  and  that  sot  her 
off.  And  from  that  night,  every  minute  of  her  time 
almost,  when  she  could  without  bein'  impolite  and  trouble 
some  (Cicely  wus  a  perfect  lady,  inside  jand  out),  she 
would  talk  to  me  about  what  she  wanted  to  do  for  the  boy, 
what  she  must  do.  She  must  work  for  him  ;  she  must  try 


30 


SWEET  CICELY. 


THE   SPAKE   BOOM. 


to  have  the  laws  changed  before  he  grew  up  ;  she  didn't 
dare  to  let  him  go  out  into  the  world  with  the  laws  as 
they  was  now,  with  temptation  on  every  side  of  him. 


SWEET  CICELY.  31 

"  You  know,  aunt  Samantha,"  she  says  to  me,  "  that  I 
wanted  to  die  when  my  husband  died  ;  but  I  want  to  live 
now.  Why,  I  must  live ;  I  cannot  die  ;  I  dare  not  die 
until  my  boy  is  safer.  I  will  work,  I  will  die  if  necessary, 
for  him." 

It  wus  the  same  old  Cicely,  I  see,  not  carin'  for  herself, 
but  carin'  only  for  them  she  loved.  Lovin'  little  creeter, 
good  little  creeter,  she  always  wuz,  and  always  would  be. 
And  so  I  told  Josiah. 

Wall,  we  had  the  boy  set  between  us  to  the  supper-table, 
Josiah  and  me  did,  in  Thomas  Jefferson's  little  high-chair. 
I  had  new  covered  it  on  purpose  for  him  with  bright  cop 
perplate  calico. 

And  that  night  at  supper,  and  after  supper,  I  judged, 
and  judged  calmly,  —  we  made  the  estimate  after  we  went 
to  bed,  Josiah  and  me  did,  —  that  the  boy  asked  3  thou 
sand  and  85  questions  about  every  thing  under  the  sun  and 
moon,  and  things  over  'em,  and  outside  of  'em,'  and  inside. 

Why,  I  panted  for  breath,  but  wouldn't  give  in.  I  was 
determined  to  use  Cicely  first-rate,  and  we  loved  the  boy 
too.  But,  oh !  it  was  a  weary  love,  and  a  short-winded 
love,  and  a  hoarse  one. 

We  went  to  bed  tuckered  completely  out,  but  good- 
natured:  our  love  for  'em  held  us  up.  And  when  we 
made  the  estimate,  it  wuzn't  in  a  cross  tone,  but  amiable, 
and  almost  winnin'.  Josiah  thought  they  went  up  into 
the  trillions.  But  I  am  one  that  never  likes  to  set  such 
things  too  high ;  and  T  said  calmly,  3,000  and  85.  And 
finally  he  gin  in  that  mebby  it  wuzn't  no  more  than  that. 

Cicely  told  me  she  couldn't  stay  with  us  very  long  now  ; 
for  her  aunt  Mary  wuz  expectin'  to  go  away  to  the  Mich- 


32  SWEET  CICELY. 

igan  pretty  soon,  to  see  a  daughter  who  wus  out  of 
health,  —  had  been  out  of  it  for  some  time,  —  and  she 
wanted  a  visit  from  her  neice  Cicely  before  she  went.  But 
she  promised  to  come  back,  and  make  a  good  visit  on  her 
way  home. 

And  so  it  was  planned.  The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and 
Cicely  wus  too  tired  with  her  journey  to  go  to  meetin'. 
But  the  boy  went.  He  sot  up,  lookin'  beautiful,  by  the 
side  of  me  on  the  back  seat  of  the  Democrat ;  his  uncle 
Josiah  sot  in  front ;  and  Ury  drove.  Ury  Henzy,  he's  our 
hired  man,  and  a  tolerable  good  one,  as  hired  men  go. 
His  name  is  Urias ;  but  we  always  call  him  Ury,  —  spelt 
U-r-y,  Ury,  —  with  the  emphasis  on  the  U. 

Wall,  that  day  Elder  Minkly  preached.  It  wus  a  pow 
erful  sermon,  about  the  creation  of  the  world,  and  how 
man  was  made,  and  the  fall  of  Adam,  and  about  Noah  and 
the  ark,  and  how  the  wicked  wus  destroyed.  It  wus  a 
middlin'  powerful  sermon ;  and  the  boy  sot  up  between 
Josiah  and  me,  and  we  wus  proud  enough  of  him.  He 
had  on  a  little  green  velvet  suit  and  a  deep  linen  collar ; 
and  he  sot  considerable  still  for  him,  with  his  eyes  on 
Elder  Minkly's  face,  a  thirikin',  I  guess,  how  he  would  put 
us  through  our  catechism  on  the  way  home.  And,  oh ! 
didn't  he,  didn't  he  do  it  ?  I  s'pose  things  seem  strange 
to  children,  and  they  can't  help  askin'  about  'em. 

But  4,000  wus  the  estimate  Josiah  and  me  calculated  on 
our  pillows  that  night  wus  the  number  of  questions  the 
boy  asked  on  our  way  home,  about  the  creation,  how  the 
world  wus  made,  and  the  ark  —  oh,  how  he  harressed  my 
poor  companion  about  the  animals  !  "  Did  they  drive  2  of 
all  the  animals  in  the  world  in  that  house,  uncle  Josiah  ?  " 


SWEET  CICELY. 


33 


34  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  Yes/'  says  Josiah. 

"  2  elfants,  and  rinosterhorses,  and  snakes,  and  snakes, 
and  bears,  and  tigers,  and  cows,  and  camels,  and  hens  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  And  flies,  uncle  Josiah  ?  —  did  they  drive  in  two  flies  ? 
and  mud-turkles  ?  and  bumble-bees  ?  and  muskeeters  ? 
Say,  uncle  Josiah,  did  they  drive  in  muskeeters  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose  so." 

"  How  could  they  drive  in  two  muskeeters  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  less  stop  talkin'  for  a  spell  —  shet  up  your  little 
mouth,"  says  Josiah  in  a  winniii'  tone,  pattin'  him  on  his 
head. 

"  I  can  shut  up  my  mouth,  uncle  Josiah,  but  I  can't  shut 
up  my  thinker." 

Josiah  sithed ;  and,  right  while  he  wus  a  sithin',  the  boy 
commenced  agin  011  a  new  tack. 

"What  for  a  lookin' place  was  paradise ?"  And  then 
follered  800  questions  about  paradise.  Josiah  sweat,  and 
offered  to  let  the  boy  come  back,  and  set  with  me.  He 
had  insisted,  when  we  started  from  the  meetin'-house,  on 
havin'  the  boy  set  on  the  front  seat  between  him  and  Ury. 

But  I  demurred  about  any  change,  and  leaned  back, 
and  eat  a  sweet  apple.  I  don't  think  it  is  wrong  Sundays 
to  eat  a  sweet  apple.  And  the  boy  kep'  on. 

"What  did  Adam  fall  off  of?  *Did  he  fall  out  of  the 
apple-tree  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  he  fell  because  he  sinned." 

But  the  boy  went  right  on,  in  a  tone  of  calm  convic 
tion, — 

"  No  big  man  would  be  apt  to  fall  a  walking  right  along. 
He  fell  out  of  the  apple-tree." 


SWEET  CICELY.  35 

And  then  he  says,  after  a  minute's  still  thought,  — 

"  I  believe,  if  I  had  been  there,  and  had  a  string  round 
Adam's  leg,  I  could  kep'  him  from  fallin'  off ;  —  and  say, 
where  was  the  Lord  ?  Couldn't  He  have  kept  him  ?  say, 
couldn't  He?" 

"  Yes :  He  can  do  any  thing." 

"  Wall,  then,  why  didn't  He?  " 

Josiah  groaned,  low. 

"If  Adam  hadn't  fell,  I  wouldn't  have  fell,  would  I?  — 
nor  you  —  nor  Ury  —  nor  anybody  ?  " 

"  No  :  I  s'pose  not." 

"  Wall,  wouldn't  it  have  paid  to  kept  Adam  up  ?  Say, 
uncle  Josiah,  say  ! " 

"  Oh !  less  talk  about  sunthin'  else,"  says  my  poor 
Josiah.  "  Don't  you  want  a  sweet  apple  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  say !  what  kind  of  a  apple  was  it  that  Adam 
eat?  Was  it  a  sweet  apple,  or  a  greening,  or  a  sick-no- 
further  ?  And  say,  was  it  right  for  all  of  us  to  fall  down 
because  Adam  did?  And  how  did  I  sin  just  because  a 
man  eat  an  apple,  and  fell  out  of  an  apple-tree,  when  I 
never  saw  the  apple,  or  poked  him  offen  the  tree,  or  jog 
gled  him,  or  any  thing  —  when  I  wasn't  there  ?  Say,  how 
was  it  wrong,  uncle  Josiah  ?  When  I  wasn't  there  !  " 

My  poor  companion,  I  guess  to  sort  o'  pacify  him,  broke 
out  kinder  a  singin'  in  a  tone  full  of  fag,  " 4  In  Adam's 
fall,  we  sinned  all.' "  Josiah  is  sound. 

"  And  be  I  a  sinning  now,  uncle  Josiah  ?  and  a  falling  ? 
And  is  everybody  a  sinning  and  a  falling  jest  because  that 
one  man  eat  one  apple,  and  fell  out  of  an  apple-tree? 
Say,  is  it  right,  uncle  Josiah,  for  you  and  me,  and  every 
body  that  is  on  the  earth,  to  keep  a  falling,  and  keep 


36 


SWEET  CICELY. 


a  falling,  and  bein'  blamed,  and  every  thing,  when  we 
hadn't  done  any  thing,  and  wasn't  there  ?  And  say,  will 
folks  always  keep  a  falling  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  they  hain't  good.'* 

"How  can  they  keep  a  falling?  If  Adam  fell  out  of  the 
apple-tree,  wouldn't  he  have  struck  on  the  ground,  and  got 


JOSIAH  CLOSING   THE   CONVERSATION. 

up  agin  ?  And  if  anybody  falls,  why,  why,  mustn't  they 
come  to  the  bottom  sometime  ?  If  there  is  something  to 
fall  off  of,  mustn't  there  be  something  to  hit  against? 
And  say  "  — 

Here  the  boy's  eyes  looked  dreamier  than  they  had 
looked,  and  further  off. 

"Was  I  made  out  of  dirt,  uncle  Josiah?" 


SWEET  CICELY. 


37 


"  Yes :  we  are  all  made  out  of  dust." 

"  And  did  God  breathe  our  souls  into  us  ?  Was  it  His 
own  self,  His  own  life,  that  was  breathed  into  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  Josiah,  in  a  more  fagged  voice  than  he  had 
used  durin'  the  intervue,  and  more  hopelesser. 

"Wall,  if  God  is  in  us,  how  can  He  lose  us  again? 
Wouldn't  it  be  a  losing  His  own  self?  And  how  could 
God  lose  Himself?  And  what  did  He  find  us  for,  in  the 
first  place,  if  He  wus  going  to  lose  us  again  ?  " 

Here  Josiah  got  right  up  in  the  Democrat,  and  lifted  the 
boy,  and  sot  him  over  on  the  seat  with  me,  and  took  the 
lines  out  of  Ury's  hands,  and  drove  the  old  mair  at  a  rate 
that  I  told  him  wus  shameful  on  Sunday,  for  a  perfessor. 


'*IT    WUS    OX    A   SLAY-HIDE  "    (p.  8). 


CHAPTER  II. 

WALL,  Cicely  and  the  boy  staid  till  Tuesday  night. 
Tuesday  afternoon  the  children  wus  all  to  home  on  a 
invitation.  (I  had  a  chicken-pie,  and  done  well  by  'em.) 

And  nothin'  to  do  but  what  Cicely  and  the  boy  must  go 
home  with  'em :  they  jest  think  their  eyes  of  Cicely.  And 
I  Couldn't  blame  'em  for  wantin'  her,  though  I  hated  to 
give  her  up. 

She  laid  out  to  stay  a  few  days,  and  then  come  back  to 
our  house  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  go  on  to  her  aunt 
Mary's.  But,  as  it  turned  out,  the  children  urged  her  so, 
she  stayed  most  two  weeks. 

And  the  very  next  day  but  one  after  Cicely  went  to  the 
children's  —  And  don't  it  beat  all  how,  if  visitors  get  to 
comin',  they'll  keep  a  comin'  ?  jest  as  it  is  if  you  begin 
to  have  trials,  you'll  have  lots  of  'em,  or  broken  dishes, 
or  any  thing. 

Wall,  it  wus  the  very  next  morniii'  but  one  after  Cicely 
had  gone,  and  my  voice  had  actually  begun  to  sound 
natural  agin  (the  boy  had  kep'  me  hoarse  as  a  frog 
answerin'  questions).  I  wus  white washin'  the  kitchen, 
havin'  put  it  off  while  Cicely  wus  there  ;  and  there  wus  a 
man  to  work  a  patchin'  up  the  wall  in  one  of  the  chambers, 

38 


SWEET  CICELY.  39 

—  and  right  there  and  then,  Elburtus  Smith  Gansey  come. 
And  truly,  we  found  him  as  clever  a  critter  as  ever  walked 
the  earth. 

It  wus  jest  before  korkuss ;  and  he  wus  kinder  visatin' 
round  amongst  his  relations,  and  makin'  himself  agreable. 
He  is  my  5th  cousin,  —  5th  or  6th.  I  can't  reely  tell 
which,  and  I  don't  know  as  I  care  much ;  for  I  think,  that, 
after  you  get  by  the  5th,  it  hain't  much  matter  anyway. 
I  sort  o'  pile  'em  all  in  promiscous.  Jest  as  it  is  after  any 
body  gets  to  be  70  years  old,  it  hain't  much  matter  how 
much  older  they  be :  they  are  what  you  may  call  old,  any 
way. 

But  I  think,  as  I  said  prior  and  beforehand,  that  he  wus 
a  5th.  His  mother  wus  a  Butrick,  and  her  mother  wus  a 
Smith.  So  he  come  to  make  us  a  visit,  and  sort  o'  ellec- 
tioneer  round.  He  wanted  to  get  put  in  county  judge  ; 
and  so,  the  korkuss  bein'  held  in  Jonesville,  I  s'pose  he 
thought  he'd  come  down,  and  endear  himself  to  us,  as  they 
all  do. 

I  am  one  that  likes  company  first-rate,  and  I  always  try 
to  do  well  by  'em  ;  but  I  tell  Josiah,  that  somehow  city 
folks  (Elburtus  wus  brought  up  in  a  city)  are  a  sort  of  a 
bother.  They  require  so  much,  and  give  you  the  feelin', 
that,  when  you  are  a  doiii'  your  very  best  for  'em,  they 
hain't  satisfied.  You  see,  some  folks'es  best  hain't  nigh  so 
good  as  other  folks'es  3d  or  4th. 

But  this  feller  —  why !  I  liked  him  from  the  first 
minute  I  sot  my  eyes  on  him.  I  hadn't  seen  him  before 
sence  I  wus  a  child,  and  so  didn't  feel  so  awful  well  ac 
quainted  with  him ;  or,  that  is,  I  didn't,  as  it  were,  feel 
intimate.  You  know,  when  you  don't  see  anybody  from 


40  SWEET  CICELY. 

the  time  you  are  babies  till  you  are  married,  and  have  lost 
a  good  many  teeth,  and  considerable  hair,  you  can't  feel 
over  and  above  intimate  with  'em  at  first  sight. 

But  I  liked  him,  he  wus  so  unassuming  and  friendly, 
and  took  every  thing  so  peaceable  and  pleasant.  And  he 
deserved  better  things  than  what  happened  to  him. 

You  see,  I  wus  a  cleanin'  house  when  he  come,  cleanin' 
the  kitchen  at  that  out-of-the-way  time  of  year  on  account 
of  Cicely's  visit,  and  on  account  of  repairin'  that  had  prom 
ised  to  be  done  by  Josiah  Allen,  and  delayed  from  week 
to  week,  and  month  to  month,  as  is  the  way  with  men. 
But  finally  he  had  got  it  done,  and  I  wus  ready  to  the 
minute  with  my  brush  and  scourin'-cloth. 

I  wus  a  whitewashin'  when  he  come,  and  my  pail  of 
whitewash  wus  hung  up  over  the  kitchen-door;  and  I 
stood  up  on  a  table,  a  whitewashin'  the  ceilin,  when  I 
heard  a  buggy  drive  up  to  the  door,  and  stop.  And  I  stood 
still,  and  listened ;  and  then  I  heard  a  awful  katotise  and 
rumpus,  and  then  I  heard  hollerin' ;  and  then  I  heard 
Josiah's  voice,  and  somebody  else's  voice,  a  talkin'  back 
and  forth,  sort  o'  quick  and  excited. 

.  Now,  some  wimmen  would  have  been  skairt,  and  acted 
skairt ;  but  I  didn't.  I  jest  stood  up  on  that  table,  cool 
and  calm  as  a  statue  of  Repose  sculped  out  of  marble,  and 
most  as  white  (I  wus  all  covered  with  whitewash),  with 
my  brush  held  easy  and  firm  in  my  right  hand,  and  my 
left  ear  a  listenin'. 

Pretty  soon  the  door  opened  right  by  the  side  of  the 
table,  and  in  come  Josiah  Allen  and  a  strange  man.  He 
introduced  him  to  me  as  Elburtus  Gansey,  my  4th  cousin ; 
and  I  made  a  handsome  curchy.  I  s'pose,  bein'  up  on  the 


SWEET  CICELY. 


41 


EXCELLENT   LIME. 


42  SWEET  CICELY. 

table,  the  curchy  showed  off  to  better  advantage  than  it 
would  if  I  had  been  on  the  floor :  it  looked  well.  But  I 
felt  that  I  ort  to  shake  hands  with  him ;  and,  as  I  went  to 
step  down  into  a  chair  to  get  down  (entirely  unbeknown 
to  me),  my  brush  hit  against  that  pail,  and  down  come 
that  pail  of  whitewash  right  onto  his  back.  (If  it  had 
been  his  head,  it  would  have  broke  it.) 

I  felt  as  if  I  should  sink. 

But  he  took  it  the  best  that  ever  wus.  He  said,  when 
Jcsiah  and  me  wus  a  sweepin'  him  off,  and  a  rubbin'  him 
off  with  wet  towels,  that  "  it  wusn't  no  matter  at  all." 
And  he  spoke  up  so  polite  and  courteous,  that  "it  seemed 
to  be  first-rate  whitewash :  he  never  see  better,  whiter 
lime  in  his  life,  than  that  seemed  to  be."  And  then  he 
sort  o'  felt  of  it  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  and  asked 
Josiah  "where  did  he  get  that  lime,  and  if  they  had  any 
more  of  it.  He  didn't  believe  they  could  get  such  lime 
outside  of  Jonesville."  He  acted  like  a  perfect  gentle 
man. 

And  he  told  me,  in  that  same  polite,  pleasant  tone,  how 
Josiah's  old  sheep  had  knocked  him  over  3  times  while  he 
wus  a  comin'  into  the  house.  He  said,  with  that  calm, 
gentle  smile,  "that  no  sooner  would  he  get  up,  than  he 
would  stand  off  a  little,  and  then  rush  at  him  with  his  head 
down,  and  push  him  right  over." 

Says  I,  "  It  is  a  perfect  shame  and  a  disgrace,"  says  I. 
"  And  I  have  told  you,  Josiah  Allen,  that  some  stranger 
would  get  killed  by  that  old  creeter ;  and  I  should  think 
you  would  get  rid  of  it." 

"Wall,  I  lay  out  to,  the  first  chance  I  get,"  says  he. 

Elburtus  said  "  it  would  almost  seem  to  be  a  pity,  it 


SWEET  CICELY.  43 

was  so  strong  and  healthy  a  sheep."  He  said  he  never 
met  a  sheep  under  any  circumstances  that  seemed  to  have 
a  sounder,  stronger  constitution.  He  said  of  course  the 
sheep  and  he  hadn't  met  under  the  pleasantest  of  circum 
stances,  and  it  wusn't  over  and  above  pleasant  to  be 
knocked  down  by  it  three  or  four  times ;  but  he  had 
found  that  he  couldn't  have  every  thing  as  he  wanted  it 
in  this  world,  and  the  only  way  to  enjoy  ourselves  wus  to 
take  things  as  they  come. 

Says  I,  "  I  s'pose  that  wus  the  way  you  took  the  sheep  ;  " 
and  he  said,  "  It  was." 

And  then  he  went  on  to  say  in  that  amiable  way  of  hisen, 
•'  that  it  probably  made  it  a  little  harder  for  him  jest  at 
that  time,  as  he  wus  struck  by  lightnin'  that  mornin'." 
(There  had  been  a  awful  thunder-storm.) 

Says  Josiah,  all  excitement,  "Did  it  strike  you  sensible  ?" 

Says  I,  "You  mean  senseless,  Josiah  Allen." 

"  Wall,  I  said  so,  didn't  I  ?  Did  it  strike  you  senseless, 
Mr.  Gansey?" 

"No,"  he  said:  it  only  stunted  him.  And  then  he  went 
on  a  praisin'  up  our  Jonesville  lightnin'.  He  said  it  wus 
about  the  cleanest,  quickest  lightnin'  he  ever  see.  He  said 
he  believed  we  had  the  smartest  lightnin'  in  our  county 
that  you  could  find  in  the  nation. 

So  good  he  acted  about  every  thing.  It  beat  all.  Why, 
he  hadn't  been  in  the  house  half  an  hour  when  he  offered 
to  help  me  whitewash.  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  let  him,  for 
it  would  spile  his  clothes,  and  he  hadn't  ever  been  there 
a  visitin'  before,  and  I  didn't  want  to  put  him  to  work. 
But  he  hung  on,  and  nothin'  to  do  but  what  he  had  got 
to  take  hold  and  whitewash.  And  I  had  to  give  up  and 


44  SWEET  CICELY. 

let  him ;  for  I  thought  it  wus  better  manners  to  put  a 
visiter  to  work,  than  it  wus  to  dispute  and  quarrel  with 
'em :  and,  of  course,  he  wasn't  used  to  it,  and  he  filled  one 
eye  most  full  of  lime.  It  wus  dretful  painful,  dretful. 

But  I  swabbed  it  out  with  viniger,  and  it  got  easier 
about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  It  bein'  work  that  he 
never  done  before,  the  whitewashin'  looked  like  fury ; 
but  I  done  it  all  over  after  him,  and  so  I  got  along  with 
it,  though  it  belated  me.  But  his  offerin'  to  do  it  showed 
his  good  will,  anyway. 

I  shouldn't  have  done  any  more  at  all  after  Elburtus  had 
come,  only  I  had  got  into  the  job,  and  had  to  finish  it ; 
for  I  always  think  it  is  better  manners,  when  visitors  come 
unexpected,  and  ketch  you  in  some  mean  job,  to  go  on  and 
finish  it  as  quick  as  you  can,  ruther  than  to  set  down  in  the 
dirt,  and  let  them,  ditto,  and  the  same. 

And  Josiah  was  ketched  jest  as  I  wus,  for  he  had  a  piece 
of  winter  wheat  that  wus  spilin'  to  be  cut;  and  he  had 
got  the  most  of  it  down,  and  had  to  finish  it :  it  wus 
lodged  so  he  had  to  cut  it  by  hand,  —  the  machine 
wouldn't  work  on  it.  And  jest  as  quick  as  Elburtus  had 
got  so  he  could  see  out  of  that  eye,  nothin'  to  do  but  what 
he  had  got  to  go  out  and  help  Josiah  cut  that  wheat.  He 
hadn't  touched  a  scyttie  for  years  and  years,  and  it  wusn't 
ten  minutes  before  his  hands  wus  blistered  011  the  inside. 
But  he  would  keep  at  it  till  the  blisters  broke,  and  then 
he  had  to  stop  anyway. 

He  got  along  quite  well  after  that :  only  the  lot  where 
Josiah  wus  to  work  run  along  by  old  Bobbet'ses,  and  he 
had  carried  a  jug  of  sweetened  water  and  viniger  and 
ginger  out  into  the  lot,  and  Elburtus  had  talked  so  polite 


SWEET  CICELY. 


45 


ELBURTUS  ENDEARIN'  HIMSELF  TO  MR.  BOBBET. 


and  cordial  to  him,  a  conversin'  on  politics,  that  he  got 
attached  to  him,  and  treated  him  to  the  sweetened  water. 


46  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  Elburtus,  not  want-in'  to  hurt  his  feelin's,  drinked 
about  3  quarts.  It  made  him  deathly  sick,  for  it  went 
aginst  his  stomach  from  the  first :  he  never  loved  it.  And 
Miss  Bobbet  duz  fix  it  dretful  sickish,  —  sweetens  it  with 
sale  mollasses  for  one  thing. 

Oh,  how  sick  that  feller  wus  when  he  come  in  to  supper  ! 
had  to  lay  right  down  on  the  lounge. 

Says  I,  "  Elburtus,  what  made  you  drink  it,  when  it 
went  aginst  your  stomach  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,"  says  he  in  a  faint  voice,  and  pale  round  his  lips 
as  any  thing,  "I  didn't  want  to  hurt  his  feelin's  by 
refusin'." 

Says  I,  out  to  one  side,  "Did  you  ever,  Josiah  Allen, 
see  such  goodness  in  your  life  ?  " 

"  I  never  see  such  dumb  foolishness,"  says  he.  "I'd  love 
to  have  anybody  ketch  me  a  driiikiii'  three  or  four  quarts 
of  such  stuff  out  of  politeness." 

"No,"  says  I  coldly:  "you  hain't  good  enough." 

Wall,  that  night  his  bed  got  a  fire.  It  seemed  as  if 
every  thing  under  the  sun  wus  a  goin'  to  happen  to  that 
man  while  he  wus  here.  You  see,  the  house  wus  all  tore 
up  a  repairing  and  I  had  to  put  him  up-stairs :  and  the  bed 
had  been  moved  out  by  carpenters,  to  plaster  a  spot  behind 
the  bed ;  and,  unbeknown  to  me,  they  had  set  it  too  near 
the  stove-pipe.  And  the  hot  pipe  run  right  up  by  the  side 
of  it,  right  by  the  bed-clothes.  It  took  fire  from  the 
piller-case. 

We  smelt  a  dretful  smudge,  and  Josiah  run  right  up-stairs : 
it  had  only  jest  ketched  a  fire,  and  Elburtus  was  sound 
asleep ;  and  Josiah,  the  minute  he  see  what  wus  the  mat 
ter,  he  jest  ketched  up  the  water-pitcher,  and  throwed  the 


SWEET  CICELY.  47 

water  over  him  ;  and  bein'  skairt  and  tremblin',  the  pitcher 
flew  out  of  his  hand,  and  went  too,  and  hit  Elburtus  on 
the  end  of  his  nose,  and  took  a  piece  of  skin  right  off. 

He  waked  up  sudden ;  and  there  he  wus,  all  drownded 
out,  and  a  piece  gone  off  of  his  nose. 

Now,  most  any  other  man  would  have  acted  mad. 
Josiah  would  have  acted  mad  as  a  mad  dog,  and  madder. 
But  you  ort  to  see  how  good  Elburtus  took  it,  jest  as  quick 
as  he  got  his  senses  back.  Josiah  said  he  could  almost 
take  his  oath  that  he  swore  out  as  cross  a  oath  as  he  ever 
heard  swore  the  first  minute  before  he  got  his  eyes  opened, 
but  I  believe  he  wus  mistaken.  But  anyway,  the  minute 
his  senses  come  back,  and  he  see  where  he  wuz,  you  ort  to 
see  how  he  behaved.  Never,  never  did  I  hear  of  such 
manners  in  all  my  born  days  !  Josiah  told  me  all  about  it. 

There  Elburtus  stood,  with  his  nose  a  bleedin',  and  his 
whiskers  singed,  and  a  drippin'  like  a  mushrat.  But,  in 
stead  of  jawin'  or  complainin',  the  first  thing  he  said  wuz, 
"  What  a  splendid  draft  our  stove  must  have,  or  else  the 
stove-pipe  wouldn't  be  so  hot !  "  (I  had  done  some  cook- 
in'  late  in  the  evenin',  and  left  a  fire  in  the  stove.) 

And  he  said  our  stove-wood  must  be  of  the  very  best 
quality ;  and  he  asked  Josiah  where  he  got  it,  and  if  he 
had  to  pay  any  thing  extra  for  that  kind.  He  said  he'd 
give  any  thing  if  he  could  get  holt  of  a  cord  of  such  wood 
as  that ! 

Josiah  said  he  felt  fairly  stunted  to  see  such  manners ; 
and  lie  went  to  apologisin'  about  how  awful  bad  it  was 
for  him  to  get  his  whiskers  singed  so,  and  how  it  wus  a 
pure  axident  his  lettin'  the  pitcher  slip  out  of  his  hand, 
and  he  wouldn't  have  done  it  for  nothin'  if  he  could  have 


48  SWEET  CICELY. 

helped  it,  and  he  wus  afraid  it  had  hurt  him  more  than  he 
thought  for. 

And  such  manners  as  that  clever  critter  showed  then  ! 
He  said  he  was  a  calculatin'  to  get  his  whiskers  cut  that 
very  day,  and  it  was  all  for  the  best ;  he  persumed  they 
wus  singed  off  in  jest  the  shape  he  wanted  'em  :  and  as  for 
his  nose,  he  wus  always  ashamed  of  it ;  it  wus  always  too 
long,  and  he  should  be  glad  if  there  wus  a  piece  gone  off 
of  it :  Josiah  had  done  him  a  favor  to  help  him  get  rid  of 
a  piece  of  it. 

Why,  when  Josiah  told  it  all  over  to  me  after  he  come 
down,  I  told  him  "  I  believed  sunthin'  would  happen  to 
that  man  before  long.  I  believed  he  wus  too  good  for 
earth." 

Josiah  can't  bear  to  hear  me  praise  up  any  mortal  man 
only  himself,  and  he  muttered  sunthin'  about  "  he  bet  he 
wouldn't  be  so  tarnel  good  after  'lection." 

But  I  wouldn't  hear  no  such  talk ;  and  says  I,  — 

"  If  there  wus  ever  a  saint  on  earth,  it  is  Elburtus  Smith 
Gansey  ; "  and  says  I,  "  If  you  try  to  vote  for  anybody  else, 
I'll  know  the  reason  why." 

"  Wall,  wall !  who  saidj  wus  a  goin'  to?  I  shall  prob 
able  vote  in  the  family ;  but  he  hain't  no  more  saint  than 
I  be." 

I  gin  him  a  witherin'  look ;  but,  as  it  wus  dark  as  pitch 
in  the  room,  he  didn't  act  withered  any.  And  I  spoke 
out  agin,  and  says  I,  in  a  low,  deep  voice,  — 

"If  it  wus  one  of  the  relations  on  your  side,  Josiah 
Allen,  you  would  say  he  acted  dretful  good." 

And  he  says,  "  There  is  such  a  thing,  Samantha,  as  bein' 
too  good  —  too  dumb  good." 


SWEET  CICELY.  49 

I  didn't  multiply  any  more  words  with  him,  and  we 
went  to  sleep. 

Wall,  that  is  jest  the  way  that  feller  acted  for  the  next 
five  days.  Why,  the  neighbors  all  got  to  lovin'  him  so, 
why,  they  jest  about  worshipped  him.  And  Josiah  said 
that  there  wuzn't  no  use  a  talkin',  Elburtus  would  get  the 
nomination  unanimous ;  for  everybody  that  had  seen  him 
appear  (and  he  had  been  all  over  the  town  appearin'  to 
'em,  and  endearin'  himself  to  'em,  cleer  out  beyond  Jones- 
ville  as  far  as  Spoon  Settlement  and  Loontown),  why, 
they  jest  thought  their  eyes  of  him,  he  wus  so  thoughtful 
and  urbane  and  helpful.  Why,  there  hain't  no  tellin'  how 
much  helpfuler  he  wuz  than  common  folks,  and  urbaner. 

Why,  Josiah  and  me  drove  into  Jonesville  one  day 
towards  night ;  and  Elburtus  had  been  there  all  day.  Jo 
siah  had  some  cross-gut  saws  that  he  wanted  to  get  filed, 
and  had  happened  to  mention  it  before  Elburtus ;  and 
nothiii'  to  do  but  he  must  go  and  carry  'em  to  the  man  in 
Jonesville  that  wus  goin'  to  do  it,  and  help  him  file  'em. 
Josiah  told  him  we  wus  goin'  over  towards  night  with  the 
team,  and  could  carry  'em  as  well  as  not ;  and  he  hadn't 
better  try  to  help,  film'  saws  wus  such  a  sort  of  a  raspin' 
undertakin'.  But  Elburtus  said  "  he  should  probably  go 
through  more  raspin'  jobs  before  he  died,  or  got  the  nom 
ination  ;  and  Josiah  could  have  'em  to  bring  home  that 
night."  So  he  sot  out  with  'em  walkin'  a  foot. 

Wall,  when  we  drove  in,  I  see  Elburtus  a  liftin'  and  a 
luggin',  a  loadin'  a  big  barrell  into  a  double  wagon  for 
a  farmer ;  and  I  says,  — 

"  What  under  the  sun  is  Elburtus  Gansey  a  doin'  ?  " 

And  Josiah  says,  in  a  gay  tone,  — 


ELBURTUS  APPEARIN'. 


SWEET  CICELY.  51 

"  He  is  a  electionerin',  Samantha :  see  him  sweat," 
says  he.  "  Salt  is  heavy,  and  political  life  is.  wearin',  when 
anybody  goes  into  it  deep,  and  tackles  it  in  the  way  El- 
burtus  tackles  it." 

He  seemed  to  think  it  wus  a  joke  ;  but  I  says,  — 

"  He  is  jest  a  killiii'  himself,  Josiah  Allen  ;  and  you 
would  set  here,  and  see  him." 

"  I  hain't  a  runnin',"  says  he  in  a  calm  tone. 

"  No,"  says  I :  "  you  wouldn't  run  a  step  to  help  any 
body.  And  see  there,"  says  I.  "  How  good,  how  good 
that  man  is  !  " 

Elburtus  had  finished  loadin'  the  salt,  and  now  he  wus 
a  holdiii'  the  horses  for  the  man  to  load  some  spring-beds. 
And  the  horses  wus  skairt  by  'em,  and  wuz  jest  a  liftin' 
Elburtus  right  up  offeii  his  feet.  Why,  they  pranced,  and 
tore,  and  lifted  him  up,  and  switched  him  round,  and  then 
they'd  set  him  down  with  a  crash,  and  whinner. 

But  that  man  smiled  all  the  time,  and  took  off  his  hat, 
and  bowed  to  me :  we  went  by  when  he  wus  a  swingin' 
right  up  in  the  air.  I  never  see  the  beat  of  his  goodness. 
Why,  we  found  out  afterwards,  that,  besides  film'  them 
saws,  he  had  loaded  seven  barrells  of  salt  that  day,  besides 
other  heavy  truck.  That  night  he  wus  perfectly  beat  out 
—  but  good. 

Josiah  said  that  Philander  Dagget'ses  wive's  brother 
wouldn't  have  no  chance  at  all.  He  wanted  the  nomina 
tion  awful,  and  Philander  had  been  a  workin'  for  him  all 
he  could ;  and  if  Elburtus  hadn't  come  down  to  Jones ville, 
and  showed  off  such  a  beautiful  demeanor  and  actions, 
why,  we  all  thought  that  Philander's  wive's  brother  would 
have  got  it.  And  I  couldn't  help  feeliii'  kind  o'  sorry  for 


52  SWEET  CICELY. 

him,  though  highly  tickled  for  Elburtus.  We  both  of  us, 
Josiah  and  me,  felt  very  pleased  and  extremely  tickled  to 
think  that  Elburtus  wus  so  sure  of  it ;  for  there  wus  a 
good  deal  of  money  in  the  office,  besides  honor,  sights  of 
honor. 

Wall,  when  the  mornin'  of  town-meetin'  came,  that  crit 
ter  wus  so  awful  clever  that  nothin'  to  do  but  what  he 
must  help  Josiah  do  the  chores. 

And  amongst  other  chores  Josiah  had  to  do  that  morn 
in',  wus  to  carry  home  a  plow  that  belonged  to  old  Dagget. 
And  old  Dagget  wanted  Josiah,  when  he  had  got  through 
with  it,  to  carry  it  to  his  son  Philander's :  and  Philander 
had  left  word  that  he  wanted  it  that  mornin' ;  and  he 
wanted  it  carried  down  to  his  lower  barn,  that  stood  in  a 
meadow  a  mile  away  from  any  house.  Philander'ses  land 
run  in  such  a  way  that  he  had  to  build  it  there  to  store 
his  fodder. 

Wall,  time  run  along,  and  it  got  time  to  start  for  town- 
meetin',  and  Elburtus  couldn't  be  found.  I  hollered  to 
him  from  the  back  stoop,  and  Josiah  went  out  to  the  barn 
and  hollered;  but  nothin'  could  be  seen  of  him.  And 
Josiah  got  all  ready,  and  waited,  and  waited ;  and  I  told 
him  that  Elburtus  had  probable  got  in  such  a  hurry  to  get 
there,  that  he  had  started  on  a  foot,  and  he  had  better 
drive  on,  and  he  would  overtake  him.  So  finally  he  did ; 
and  he  drove  along  clear  to  Jonesville,  expectiri'  to  over 
take  him  every  minute,  and  didn't.  And  the  hull  day 
passed  off,  and  no  Elburtus.  And  nobody  had  seen  him. 
And  everybody  thought  it  looked  so  curius  in  him,  a  dis- 
apearin'  as  he  did,  when  they  all  knew  that  he  had  come 
down  to  our  part  of  the  county  a  purpose  to  get  the  nom- 


ELIJURTUS    HOLDIXG    THE    HORSES. 


54  SWEET  CICELY. 

ination.  Why,  his  disapearin'  as  he  did  looked  so  awful 
strange,  that  they  didn't  know  what  to  make  of  it. 

And  the  opposition  side,  Philander  Daggets'es  wive's 
brother's  friends,  started  the  story  that  he  wus  arrested  for 
stealiii'  a  sheep,  and  wus  dragged  off  to  jail  that  mornin'. 

Of  course  Josiah  tried  to  dispute  it ;  but,  as  he  wus  as 
much  in  the  dark  as  any  of  'em  as  to  where  he  wuz,  his 
disputin'  of  it  didn't  amount  to  any  thing.  And  then, 
Josiah's  feelin'  so  strange  about  Elburtus  made  his  eyes 
look  kinder  glassy  and  strange  when  they  wus  talkin'  to 
him  about  it ;  and  they  got  up  the  story,  so  I  hearn,  that 
Josiah  helped  him  off  with  the  sheep,  and  wus  feelin'  like 
death  to  have  him  found  out. 

And  the  friends  of  Philander  Daggets'es  wive's  brother 
had  it  all  thier  own  way,  and  he  wus  elected  almost  unan 
imous. 

Wall,  Josiah  come  home  early,  he  wus  so  worried  about 
Elburtus.  He  thought  mebby  he  had  come  back  home 
after  he  had  got  away,  and  wus  took  sick  sudden.  And 
his  first  words  to  me  wuz,  — 

"  Where  is  Elburtus  ?     Have  you  seen  Elburtus  ?  " 

And  then  wus  my  time  to  be  smit  and  horrow-struck. 
And  the  more  we  got  to  thinkin'  about  it,  the  more  won 
derful  did  it  seem  to  us,  that  that  man  had  dissapeared 
right  in  broad  daylight,  jest  as  sudden  and  mysterious  as  if 
the  ground  had  opened,  and  swallowed  him  down,  or  as  if 
he  had  spread  a  pair  of  wings,  and  flown  up  into  the  sky. 

Not  that  I  really  thought  he  had.  I  couldn't  hardly  as 
sociate  the  idee  of  heaven  and  endless  repose  with  a  short 
frock-coat  and  boots,  and  a  blue  necktie  and  a  stiff  shirt- 
collar. 


SWEET  CICELY.  55 

But,  oh !  how  strange  and  mysterious  it  did  seem  to  be ! 
We  talked  it  over  and  over,  and  we  could  not  think  of  any 
thing  that  could  happen  to  him.  He  knew  enough  to  keep 
out  of  the  creek ;  and  there  wusn't  no  woods  nigh  where 
he  could  get  lost,  and  he  wus  too  old  to  be  stole.  And  so 
we  thought  and  thought,  and  racked  our  2  brains. 

And  finally  I  says,  "  Wall !  it  hain't  happened  for  sev 
eral  thousand  years,  but  I  don't  know  what  to  think.  We 
read  of  folks  bein'  translated  up  to  heaven  when  they  get 
too  good  for  earth,  and  you  know  I  have  told  you  several 
times  that  he  wus  too  clever  for  earth.  I  have  thought  he 
wus  not  of  the  earth,  earthy." 

"  And  I  have  thought,"  says  he,  sort  o'  snappish,  "  that 
he  wus  of  politics,  politicky." 

Says  I,  "  Josiah  Allen,  I  should  be  afraid,  if  I  wus  in  your 
place,  to  talk  in  tb,at  way  in  such  a  time  as  this,"  says  I. 
"  I  have  felt,  when  I  see  his  actions  when  he  wus  knocked 
over  by  that  sheep,  and  covered  with  lime,  and  sot  fire  to, 
I  have  felt  as  if  we  wus  entertainin'  a  angel  unawares." 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  it  wuz  unawares,  entirely  unawares  to 
me." 

His  axent  wus  dry,  dry  as  chaff,  and  as  full  of  ironry  as 
a  oven-door  or  flat-iron. 

"Wall,"  says  I,  "mebby  you  will  see  the  time,  before 
the  sun  rises  on  your  bald  head  again,  that  you  will  be 
sorry  for  such  talk."  Says  I,  "  If  it  wus  one  of  the  rela 
tion  on  your  side,  mebby  you  would  talk  different  about 
him."  That  touched  him ;  and  he  snapped  out,  — 

"What  do  you  s'pose  I  care  which  side  he  wus  on? 
And  I  should  think  it  wus  time  to  have  a  little  sunthin' 
to  eat :  it  must  be  three  o'clock  if  it  is  a  minute." 


56  SWEET  CICELY. 

Says  I,  "Can  you  eat,  Josiah  Allen,  in  such  a  time  as 
this?" 

"  I  could  if  I  could  get  any  thing  to  eat,"  says  he  ;  "  but 
there  don't  seem  to  be  much  prospect  of  it." 

Says  I,  "  The  best  thing  you  can  do,  Josiah  Allen,  is  to 
foller  his  tracks.  The  ground  is  kinder  soft  and  spongy, 
and  you  can  do  it,"  says  I.  "Where  did  he  go  to  last 
from  here  ?  " 

"Down  to  Philander  Daggets'es,  to  carry  home  his 
plow." 

"  That  angel  man  !  "  says  I. 

"That  angel  fool!"  says  Josiah.  "Who  asked  him 
to  go?" 

Says  I,  "When  a  man  gets  too  good  for  earth,  there  is 
other  ways  to  translate  him  besides  chariots  of  fire.  Who 
knows  but  what  he  has  fell  down  in  a  fit !  And  do  you 
go  this  minute,  Josiah  Allen,  and  foller  his  tracks ! " 

"  I  sha'n't  foller  nobody's  tracks,  Samantha  Allen,  till  I 
have  sunthin'  to  eat." 

I  knew  there  wuzn't  no  use  of  reasonin'  no  further  with 
him  then  ;  for  when  he  said  Samantha  Allen  in  that  axent, 
I  knew  he  wus  as  sot  as  a  hemlock  post,  and  as  hard  to 
move  as  one.  And  so  my  common  sense  bein'  so  firm  and 
solid,  even  in*  such  a  time  as  this,  I  reasoned  it  right  out, 
he  wouldn't  stir  till  he  had  sunthin'  to  eat,  and  so  the 
sooner  I  got  his  supper,  the  sooner  he  would  go  and  foller 
Elburtus'es  tracks.  So  I  didn't  spend  no  more  strength 
a  arguin',  but  kep'  it  to  hurry  up ;  and  my  reason  is  such, 
strong  and  vigorous  and  fur-seein',  that  I  knew  the  better 
supper  he  had,  the  more  animated  would  be  his  search. 
So  I  got  a  splendid  supper,  but  quick. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


57 


HUNTING    FOli   ELBUKTUS. 


58  SWEET  CICELY. 

But,  oh  !  all  the  time  I  wus  a  gettin'  it,  this  solemn  and 
awful  question  wus  a  hantin'  me,  —  What  had  become  of 
Elburtus  Smith  Gansey  ?  What  had  become  of  the  rela 
tion  on  my  side  ?  Oh,  the  feelin's  I  felt !  Oh,  the  emo 
tions  I  carried  round  with  me,  from  buttery  to  teakettle, 
and  from  teapot  to  table  ! 

But  finally,  after  eatiii'  longer  than  it  seemed  to  me  he 
ever  eat  before  (such  wus  my  feelin's),  Josiah  started  off 
acrost  the  lot,  towards  Daggets'es  barn.  And  I  stood  in 
the  west  door,  with  my  hand  over  my  eyes,  a  watchin' 
him  most  every  minute  he  wus  gone.  And  when  that 
man  come  back,  he  come  a  laughin'.  And  I  wus  that 
madded,  to  have  him  look  in  that  sort  of  a  scorfin'  way, 
that  I  wouldn't  say  a  word  to  him  ;  and  he  come  into  the 
house  a  laughin',  and  sot  down  and  crossed  his  legs 
a  laughin',  and  says  he,  — 

"  What  do  you  s'pose  has  become  of  the  relation  on  your 
side  ?  "  And  says  he,  snickerin'  agin,  — 

"  You  wus  in  the  right  on  it,  Samantha,  —  he  did  ass- 
cend :  he  went  up  !  "  And  agin  he  snickered  loud.  And 
says  I  coldly,  cold  as  ice  almost,  — 

"If  I  wuzn't  a  perfect  luny,  or  idiot,  I'd  talk  as  if  I 
knew  sunthin'.  You  know  I  said  that,  as  one  who  alle- 
gores.  If  you  have  found  Elburtus  Gansey,  I'd  say  so, 
and  done  with  it." 

"  Wall,"  says  he,  "  you  wuz  in  the  right  of  it,  and  that  is 
what  tickles  me.  He  got  locked  up  in  Dagget's  barn. 
.He  asscended,  jest  as  I  told  you.  He  went  up  the  ladder 
over  the  hay,  to  throw  down  fodder,  and  got  locked  up 
axidental"  And,  as  he  said  "axidental,"  he  snickered 
worse  than  ever. 


SWEET  CICELY.  59 

And  I  says,  "  It  is  a  mean,  miserable,  good  for  nothin', 
low-lived  caper !  And  Philander  Dagget  done  it  a  pur 
pose  to  keep  Elburtus  from  the  town-meeting  so  his  wive's 
brother  would  get  the  election.  And,  if  I  wus  Elburtus 
Gansey,  I'd  sue  him,  and  serve  a  summons  on  him,  and 
prosicute  him." 

"  Why,"  says  Josiah,  in  the  same  hilarious  axent,  and 
the  same  scorfin'  look  onto  him,  "  Philander  says  he  never 
felt  so  worked  up  about  any  thing  in  his  life,  as  he  did 
when  he  unlocked  the  barn-door  to-night,  and  found  Elbur 
tus  there.  He  said  he  felt  as  if  he  should  sink,  for  he  wus 
so  afraid  that  some  evil-minded  person  might  say  he  done 
it  a  purpose.  And  he  said  what  made  him  feel  the  worst 
about  it  wuz  to  think  that  he  should  have  shut  him  up 
axidental  when  he  wus  a  helpin'  so  good." 

Says  I,  "The  mean,  impudent  creeter!  As  good  as 
Elburtus  wuz!" 

"  Wall,"  says  Josiah,  "  you  know  what  I  told  you,  — 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  bein'  too  good." 

I  wouldn't  multiply  no  more  words  on  the  subject,  I 
wus  that  wrought  up  and  excited  and  mad ;  and  I  wouldn't 
give  in  a  mite  to  Josiah  Allen,  and  wouldn't  want  it  re 
peated  now  so  he  could  hear  it,  but  I  do  s'pose  that  wus 
the  great  trouble  with  Elburtus,  —  he  wus  a  leetle  too 
good. 

And,  come  to  think  it  over,  I  don't  s'pose  Philander  had 
laid  any  plot  to  keep  him  away  from  'lection ;  but  he  is  a 
great  case  for  fun,  and  he  had  laughed  and  tickled  about 
Elburtus  bein'  so  polite  and  helpful,  and  had  made  a  good 
deel  of  fun  of  him.  And  then,  he  thinks  a  awful  sight  of 
his  wive's  brother,  and  wanted  him  to  get  the  election. 


60  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  I  s'pose  the  idee  come  to  him  after  Elburtus  had 
got  down  to  the  barn  where  he  wus  a  fodderin'  his  sheep. 

You  see,  if  Elburtus  had  let  well  enough  alone,  and  not 
been  too  good,  every  thing  would  have  gone  off  right  then  ; 
but  he  wouldn't.  Nothin'  to  do  but  he  must  help  Philan 
der  get  down  his  fodder.  And  I  s'pose  then  the  idee  come 
to  him  that  he  would  shet  him  up,  and  keep  him  there  till 
after  'lection  wus  over.  For  I  don't  believe  a  word  about 
its  bein'  a  axident.  And  I  don't  believe  Josiah  duz, 
though  he  pretends  he  duz.  But  every  time  he  says  that 
word  "  axident,"  he  will  laugh  out  so  sort  o'  aggravatin'. 
That  is  what  mads  me  to  this  day. 

But,  as  Josiah  says,  who  would  have  thought  that  El 
burtus  would  have  offered  to  carry  that  plow  home,  and 
throw  down  the  fodder  ? 

But,  at  any  rate,  Philander  turned  the  key  on  him  while 
he  wus  up  over-head,  and  locked  him  in  there  for  the 
day.  A  meaner,  low-liveder,  miserabler  caper,  I  never  see 
nor  heard  of. 

But  the  way  Philander  gets  out  of  it  (he  is  a  natural 
liar,  and  has  had  constant  practice),  he  don't  deny  lockin' 
the  door,  but  he  says  he  wus  to  work  on  the  outside  of 
the  barn,  and  he  s'posed  Elburtus  had  gone  out,  and  gone 
home  ;  and  he  locked  the  door,  and  went  away. 

He  says  (the  mean,  sneakin',  hippocritical  creeter  !)  that 
he  feels  like  death  about  it,  to  think  it  happened  so,  and 
on  that  day  too.  And  he  says  what  makes  him  feel  the 
meanest  is,  to  think  it  was  his  wive's  brother  that  wus  up 
on  the  other  side,  and  got  the  nomination.  He  says  it 
leaves  room  for  talk. 

And  there  it  is.     You  can't  sue  a  man  for  lockin'  his 


SWEET  CICELY.  61 

own  barn-door.  And  Elburtus  wouldn't  want  it  brought 
into  court,  anyway ;  for  folks  would  be  a  wonderin'  so 
what  under  the  sun  he  wus  a  prowlin'  round  for  up  over 
head  in  Philander  Daggets'es  barn. 

So  he  wus  obliged  to  let  the  subject  drop,  and  Philander 
has  it  all  his  own  way.  And  they  say  his  wive's  brother 
give  him  ten  silver  dollars  for  his  help.  And  that  is  pretty 
good  pay  for  turnin'  one  lock,  about  2  secorits'  work. 

Wall,  anyway,  that  wus  the  last  thing  that  happened 
to  Elburtus  in  Jonesville  ;  and  whether  he  took  it  polite 
and  easy,  or  not,  I  don't  know.  For  that  night,  when 
Philander  went  down  to  the  barn  to  fodder,  jest  before 
Josiah  went  there,  and  let  him  out  (and  acted  perfectly 
suprised  and  horrified  at  findin'  him  there,  Philander  did, 
so  I  have  been  told),  Elburtus  started  a  bee-line  for  the 
depo,  and  never  come  back  here  at  all ;  and  he  left  a  good 
new  handkerchief,  and  a  shirt,  and  3  paper  collars. 

And  whether  he  has  kep'  on  a  sufferin',  or  not,  I  don't 
know.  Mebby  he  had  his  trials  in  one  batch,  as  you  may 
say,  and  is  now  havin'  a  spell  of  enjoyments.  I  am  sure, 
I  hope  so  ;  fora  cleverer,  good-natureder,'polite-appearin'er 
creeter,  /  never  see,  nor  don't  expect  to  see  agin  in  niy 
life ;  and  so  I  tell  Josiah. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  next  evenin'  follerin'  after  the  exodus  of  Elburtus 
Gansey,  Josiah  and  I,  thinkin'  that  we  needed  a  relaxation 
to  relax  our  two  minds,  rode  into  Jonesville.  We  went 
in  the  Democrat,  at  my  request ;  for  I  wus  in  hopes  Cicely 
would  come  home  with  us. 

And  she  did.  We  had  a  good  ride.  I  sot  in  front  with 
Josiah  at  his  request ;  and  what  made  it  pleasanter  wuz, 
the  boy  stood  up  in  the  Democrat  behind  me  a  good  deal 
of  the  way,  with  his  arms  round  my  neck,  a  kissin'  me. 

And  when  I  waked  up  in  the  mornin',  I  wus  glad  to 
think  they  wus  there.  Though  Cicely  wuzn't  well:  I 
could  see  she  wuzn't.  I  felt  sad  at  the  breakfast-table  to 
see  how  her  fresh  young  beauty  wus  bein'  blowed  away 
by  the  sharp  breath  of  sorrow's  gale. 

But  she  wus  sweet  and  gentle  as  ever  the  posy  wus  we 
had  named  her  after.  No  Sweet  Cicely  blow  wus  ever 
sweeter  and  purer  than  she  wuz.  After  I  got  my  work  all 
done  up  below,  —  she  offerin'  to  help  me,  and  a  not  lettin' 
her  lift  her  finger,  —  I  went  up  into  her  room,  where  there 
wus  a  bright  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  every  thing  looked 
cozy  and  snug. 

The  boy,  havin'  wore  himself  out  a  harrowin'  his  uncle 

G2 


SWEET   CICELY.  63 

Josiah  and  Ury  with  questions,  had  laid  down  on  the 
crimson  rug  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  wus  fast  asleep,  get- 
tin'  strength  for  new  labors. 

And  Cicely  sot  in  a  little  low  rockin'-chair  by  the  side 
of  him.  She  had  on  a  white  flannel  mornin'-dress,  and  a 
thin  white  zephyr  worsted  shawl  round  her  ;  and  her  silky 
brown  hair  hung  down  her  back,  for  she  had  been  a  brushin' 
it  out ;  and  she  looked  sweet  and  pretty  enough  to  kiss ;  and 
I  kissed  her  right  there,  before  I  sot  down,  or  any  thing. 

And  then,  thinks'es  I  as  I  sot  down,  we  will  have  a 
good,  quiet  visit,  and  talk  some  about  other  wimmen.  (No 
runnin'  'em :  I'd  scorn  it,  and  so  would  she.) 

But  I  thought  I'd  love  to  talk  it  over  with  her,  about 
what  good  housekeepers  Tirzah  Ann  and  Maggie  wuz. 
And  I  wanted  to  hear  what  she  thought  about  the  babe, 
and  if  she  could  say  in  cander  that  she  ever  see  a  little 
girl  equal  her  in  graces  of  mind  and  body. 

And  I  wanted  to  hear  all  about  her  aunt  Mary  and  her 
aunt  Melissa  (on  her  father's  side).  I  knew  she  had  had 
letters  from  'em.  And  I  wanted  to  hear  how  she  that  was 
Jane  Smith  wuz,  that  lived  neighbor  to  her  aunt  Mary's 
oldest  daughter,  and  how  that  oldest  daughter  wuz,  who 
wus  s'posed  to  be  a  runnin'  down.  And  I  Avanted  to  hear 
about  Susan  Ann  Grimshaw,  who  had  married  her  aunt 
Melissy's  youngest  son.  There  wus  lots  of  news  that  I 
felt  fairly  sufferin'  for,  and  lots  of  news  that  I  felt  like 
disseminatin'  to  her. 

But,  if  you'll  believe  it,  jest  as  I  had  begun  to  inquire, 
and  take  comfort,  she  branched  right  off,  a  lady-like  branch, 
and  a  courteous  one,  but  still  a  branch,  and  begun  to  talk 
about  "  what  should  she  do  —  what  could  she  do  —  for 
the  boy." 


64  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  she  looked  down  on  him  as  he  lay  there,  with  such 
a  boundless  love,  and  a  awful  dread  in  her  eyes,  that  it 
was  pitiful  in  the  extreme  to  see  her ;  and  says  she,  — 

"  What  will  become  of  him  in  the  future,  aunt  Saman- 
tha,  with  the  laws  as  they  are  now  ? " 

And  with  such  a  chin  and  mouth  as  he  has  got,  says  I 


to  myself,  lookin'  down  on  him ;  but  I  didn't  say  it  out 
loud.     I  am  too  well  bread. 

"It  must  be  we  can  get  the  laws  changed  before  he 
grows  up.  I  dare  not  trust  him  in  a  world  that  has  such 
temptations,  such  snares  set  ready  for  him.  Why,"  says 
she  —  And  she  fairly  trembled  as  she  said  it.  She  would 
always  throw  her  whole  soul  into  any  thing  she  undertook; 


SWEET  CICELY.  65 

and  in  this  she  had  throwed  her  hull  heart,  too,  and  her 
hull  life  —  or  so  it  seemed  to  me,  to  look  at  her  pale  face, 
and  her  big,  glowin'  eyes,  full  of  sadness,  full  of  resolve 
too. 

"  Why,  just  think  of  it !  How  he  will  be  coaxed  into 
those  drinking-saloons !  how,  with  his  easy,  generous, 
good-natured  ways, — and  I  know  he  will  have  such  ways, 
and  be  popular,  —  a  bright,  handsome  young  man,  and 
with  plenty  of  money.  Just  think  of  it !  how,  with  those 
open  saloons  on  every  side  of  him,  when  he  can't  walk 
down  the  street  without  those  gilded  bars  shining  on  every 
hand ;  and  the  friends  he  will  make,  gay,  rich,  thoughtless 
young  men  like  himself  —  they  will  laugh  at  him  if  he 
refuses  to  do  as  they  do ;  and  with  my  boy's  inherited 
tastes  and  temperament,  his  easiness  to  be  led  by  those  he 
loves,  what  will  hinder  him  from  going  to  ruin  as  his  poor 
father  did  ?  What  will  keep  him,  aunt  Samantha  ?  " 

And  she  busted  out  a  cryin'. 

I  says,  "  Hush,  Cicely,"  layin'  my  hand  on  hern.  It  wus 
little  and  soft,  and  trembled  like  a  leaf.  Some  folks  would 
have  called  her  nervous  and  excitable ;  but  I  didn't, 
thinkin'  what  she  had  went  through  with  the  boy's  father. 

Says  I,  "  There  is  One  who  is  able  to  save  him.  And, 
instead  of  gettin'  yourself  all  worked  up  over  what  may 
never  be,  I  think  it  would  be  better  to  ask  Him  to  save 
the  boy." 

"  I  do  ask  Him,  every  day,  every  hour,"  says  she,  sobbin' 
quieter  like. 

"  Wall,  then,  hush  up,  Cicely." 

And  sometimes  she  would  hush  up,  and  sometimes  she 
wouldn't. 


66  SWEET  CICELY. 

But  how  she  would  talk  about  what  she  wanted  to  do 
for  him !  I  heard  her  talkin'  to  her  uncle  Josiah  one 
day. 

You  see,  she  worried  about  the  boy  to  that  extent,  and 
loved  him  so,  that  she  would  have  been  willin'  to  have 
had  her  head  took  right  off,  if  that  would  have  helped 
him,  if  it  would  have  insured  him  a  safe  and  happy  future ; 
but  it  wouldn't :  and  so  she  was  willin'  to  do  any  other 
hard  job  if  there  wus  any  prospect  of  its  helpin'  the 
boy. 

She  wus  willin'  to  vote  on  the  temperance  question. 

But  Josiah  wus  more  sot  than  usial  that  mornin'  aginst 
wimmen's  votin' ;  and  he  had  begun  himself  on  the  subject 
to  Cicely ;  had  talked  powerful  aginst  it,  but  gentle :  he 
loved  Cicely  as  he  did  his  eyes. 

He  had  been  to  a  lecture  the  night  before,  to  Toad 
Holler,  a  little  place  between  Jonesville  and  Loontown. 
He  and  uncle  Nate  Burpy  went  up  to  hear  a  speech  aginst 
wimmen's  suffrage,  in  a  Democrat. 

Josiah  said  it  wus  a  powerful  speech.  He  said  uncle 
Nate  said,  "  The  feller  that  delivered  it  ort  to  be  President 
of  the  United  States :  "  he  said,  "  That  mind  ort  to  be  in 
the  chair." 

And  I  said  I  persumed,  from  what  I  had  heard  of  it, 
that  his  mind  wuz  tired,  and  ort  to  set  down  and  rest. 

I  spoke  light,  because  Josiah  Allen  acted  so  high- 
headed  about  it.  But  I  do  s'pose  it  wus  a  powerful  effort, 
from  what  I  hearn. 

He  talked  dretful  smart,  they  say,  and  used  big  words. 

The  young  feller  that  gin  the  lecture,  and  his  sister, 
wus  left  orphans  and  poor;  and  she  wus  a  good  deal  the 


A    GREAT    EFFOKT. 


68  SWEET  CICELY. 

oldest,  and  she  set  her  eyes  by  him.  She  had  took  care 
of  the  old  folks,  supported  'em  and  lifted  'em  round  her 
self  ;  took  all  the  care  of  'em  in  every  way  till  they  died : 
and  then  this  boy  didn't  seem  to  have  much  faculty  for 
gettin'  along;  so  she  educated  him,  sewed  for  tailors' 
shops,  and  got  money,  and  sent  him  to  school  and  college, 
so  he  could  talk  big. 

And  it  was  such  a  comfort  to  that  sister,  to  sort  o'  rest 
off  for  an  evenin'  from  makin'  vests  and  pantaloons,  cheap, 
to  furnish  him  money !  —  it  was  so  sort  o'  restful  to  her  to 
set  and  hear  him  talk  large  aginst  wimmen's  suffrage  and 
the  weakness  and  ineficiency  of  .wimmen  ! 

He  said,  the  young  chap  did,  and  proved  it  right  out,  so 
they  said,  "  that  the  franchise  was  too  tuckerin'  a  job  for 
wimmen  to  tackle,  and  that  wimmen  hadn't  the  earnest 
ness  and  persistency  and  deep  forethought  to  make  her 
valuable  as  a  franchiser  —  or  safe." 

You  see,  he  had  his  hull  strength,  the  young  chap  did ; 
for  his  sister  had  clothed  him,  as  well  as  boarded  him,  and 
educated  him :  so  he  could  talk  powerful.  He  could  use  up 
quantities  of  wind,  and  not  miss  it,  havin'  all  his  strength. 

His  speech  made  a  deep  impression  on  men  and  wim 
men.  His  sister  bein'  so  wore  out,  workin'  so  hard,  wept 
for  joy,  it  was  so  beautiful,  and  affected  her  so  powerful. 
And  she  said  "she  never  realized  till  that  minute  how 
weak  and  useless  wimmen  really  was,  and  how  strong  and 
powerful  men  was." 

It  wus  a  great  effort.  And  she  got  a  extra  good  supper 
for  him  that  night,  I  heard,  wantin'  to  repair  the  waste  in 
his  system,  caused  by  eloquence.  She  wus  supportin'  him 
till  he  got  a  client :  he  wus  a  studyin'  law. 


SWEET  CICELY.  69 

Wall,  Josiah  wus  jest  full  of  his  arguments;  and  he 
talked  'em  over  to  Cicely  that  mornin'. 

But  she  said,  after  hearin?  'em  all,  "that  she  wus  willin' 
to  vote  on  the  temperance  question.  She  had  thought  it 
all  over,''  she  said.  "  Thought  how  the  nation  lay  under 
the  curse  of  African  slavery  until  that  race  of  slaves  were 
freed.  And  she  believed,  that  when  women  who  were  now 
in  legal  bondage,  were  free  to  act  as  their  heart  and  reason 
dictated,  that  they,  who  suffered  most  from  intemperance, 
would  be  the  ones  to  strike  the  blow  that  would  free  the 
land  from  the  curse." 

Curius  that  she  should  feel  so,  but  you  couldn't  get  the 
idee  out  of  her  head.  She  had  pondered  ove'r  it  day  and 
night,  she  said,  —  pondered  over  it,  and  prayed  over  it. 

And,  come  to  think  it  over,  I  don't  know  as  it  wus  so 
curius  after  all,  when  I  thought  how  Paul  had  ruined 
himself,  and  broke  her  heart,  and  how  her  money  wus 
bein'  used  now  to  keep  grog-shops  open,  four  of  her 
buildin's  rented  to  liquor-dealers,  and  she  couldn't  help 
herself. 

Cicely  owned  lots  of  other  landed  property  in  the  village 
where  she  lived ;  and  so,  of  course,  her  property  wus  all 
taxed  accordin'  to  its  worth.  And  its  bein'  the  biggest 
property  there,  of  course  it  helped  more  than  any  thing 
else  did  to  keep  the  streets  smooth  and  even  before  the 
saloon-doors,  so  drunkards  could  get  there  easy  ;  and  to  get 
new  street-lamps  in  front  of  the  saloons  and  billiard-rooms, 
so  as  to  make  a  real  bright  light  to  draw  'em  in  and  ruin 
'em. 

There  wus  a  few — the  doctor,  who  knew  how  rum 
ruined  men's  bodies;  and  the  minister,  he  knew  how  it 


70  SWEET  CICELY. 

ruined  men's  souls  —  they  two,  and  a  few  others,  worked 
awful  hard  to  get  the  saloons  shut  up. 

But  the  executor,  who  wanted  the  town  to  go  license, 
so's  he  could  make  money,  and  thinkin'  it  would  be  for 
her  interest  in  the  end,  hired  votes  with  her  money.  Her 
money  used  to  hire  liquor-votes !  So  she  heard,  and 
believed.  The  idee ! 

So  her  money,  and  his  influence,  and  the  influence  of 
low  appetites,  carried  the  day;  and  the  liquor-traffic  won. 
The  men  who  rented  her  houses,  voted  for  license  to  a 
man.  Her  property  used  agin  to  spread  the  evil !  She 
labored  with  these  men  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  And  they 
liked  her.  She  was  dretful  good  to  'em.  (As  I  say,  she 
held  the  things  of  this  world  with  a  loose  grip.) 

They  listened  to  her  respectful,  stood  with  their  hats  in 
their  hands,  answerin'  her  soft,  and  went  soft  out  of  her 
presence  —  and  voted  license  to  a  man.  You  see,  they 
wus  all  willin'  to  give  her  love  and  courtesy  and  kindness, 
but  not  the  right  to  do  as  her  heaven-learnt  sense  of  right 
and  wrong  wanted  her  to.  She  had  a  fine  mind,  a  pure 
heart:  she  had  been  through  the  highest  schools  of  the 
land,  and  that  higher,  heavenly  school  of  sufferin',  where 
God  is  the  teacher,  and  had  graduated  from  :em  with  her 
lofty  purposes  refined  and  made  luminous  with  somethin' 
like  the  light  of  Heaven. 

But  those  men  —  many  of  'em  who  did  not  know  a 
letter  of  the  alphabet,  whose  naturally  dull  minds  had 
become  more  stupified  by  habitual  vice  —  those  men,  who 
wus  her  inferiors,  and  her  servants  in  every  thing  else, 
wus  each  one  of  'em  her  king  here,  and  she  his  slave ; 
and  they  compelled  her  to  obey  thier  lower  wills. 


SWEET  CICELY.  71 

Wall,  Cicely  didn't  think  it  wus  right.  Curius  she 
should  think  so,  some  folks  thought ,  but  she  did. 

But  all  this  that  wore  on  her  wus  as  nothin'  to  what 
she  felt  about  the  boy,  — her  fears  for  his  future.  "  What 
could  she  do — what  could  she  do  for  the  boy,  to  make  it 
safer  for  him  in  the  future  ?  " 

And  I  had  jest  this  one  answer,  that  I'd  say  over  and 
over  agin  to  her,  — 

"  Cicely,  you  can  pray !  That  is  all  that  wimmen  can 
do.  And  try  to  influence  him  right  now.  God  can  take 
care  of  the  boy." 

"  But  I  can't  keep  him  with  me  always ;  and  other  influ 
ences  will  come,  and  beat  mine  down.  And  I  have  prayed, 
but  God  don't  hear  my  prayer." 

And  I'd  say,  calm  and  soothiii',  "How  do  you  know, 
Cicely?" 

And  she  says,  "  Why,  how  I  prayed  for  help  when  my 
poor  Paul  went  down  to  ruin,  through  the  open  door  of 
a  grog-shop !  If  the  women  of  the  land  had  it  in  their 
power  to  do  what  their  hearts  dictate,  —  what  the  poorest, 
lowest  man  has  the  right  to  do,  —  every  saloon,  every  low 
grog-shop,  would  be  closed." 

She  said  this  to  Josiah  the  mornin'  after  the  lecture  I 
speak  of.  He  sot  there,  seemin'ly  perusin'  the  almanac ; 
but  he  spoke  up  then,  and  says,  — 

"  You  can't  shet  up  human  nater,  Cicely :  that  will  jump 
out  any  way.  As  the  poet  says,  4  Nater  will  caper.'  v 

But  Cicely  went  right  on,  with  her  eyes  a  shinin',  and 
a  red  spot  in  her  white  cheeks  that  I  didn't  like  to  see. 

"A  thousand  temptations  that  surround  my  boy  now, 
could  be  removed,  a  thousand  low  influences  changed  into 


72  SWEET  CICELY. 

better,  helpful  ones.  There  are  drunkards  who  long,  who 
pray,  to  have  temptations  removed  out  of  their  way, — 
those  who  are  trying  to  reform,  and  who  dare  not  pass 
the  door  of  a  saloon,  the  very  smell  of  the  liquor  crazing 
them  with  the  desire  for  drink.  They  want  help,  they 
pray  to  be  saved ;  and  we  who  are  praying  to  help  them 
are  powerless.  What  if,  in  the  future,  my  boy  should 
be  like  one  of  them,  —  weak,  tempted,  longing  for  help, 
and  getting  nothing  but  help  towards  vice  and  ruin? 
Haven't  mothers  a  right  to  help  those  they  love  in  every 
way,  —  by  prayer,  by  influence,  by  legal  right  and 
might?" 

"It  would  be  a  dangerous  experiment,  Cicely,"  says 
Josiah,  crossin'  his  right  leg  over  his  left,  and  turnin'  the 
almanac  to  another  month.  "  It  seems  to  me  sunthiii'  un 
womanly,  sunthin'  aginst  nater.  It  is  turnin'  the  laws  of 
nater  right  round.  It  is  perilous  to  the  domestic  nature 
of  wimmen." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  says  I.  "Don't  you  remember,  Josiah 
Allen,  how  you  worried  about  them  hens  that  we  carried 
to  the  fair  ?  They  wus  so  handsome,  and  such  good  lay 
ers,  that  I  really  wanted  the  influence  of  them  hens  to 
spread  abroad.  I  wanted  other  folks  to  know  about  'em, 
so's  to  have  some  like  'em.  But  you  worried  awfully. 
You  wus  so  afraid  that  carryin'  the  hens  into  the  turmoil 
of  public  life  would  have  a  tendency  to  keep  'em  from 
wantin'  to  make  nests  and  hatch  chickens  !  But  it  didn't. 
Good  land!  one  of  'em  made  a  nest  right  there,  in  the 
coop  to  the  fair,  with  the  crowd  a  shoutin'  round  'em,  and 
laid  two  eggs.  You  can't  break  up  nature's  laws;  they 
are  laid  too  deep  and  strong  for  any  hammer  we  can  get 


SWEET  CICELY. 


73 


holt  of  to  touch  'em ;  all  the  nations  and  empires  of  the 
world  can't  move  ''em  round  a  notch. 

"A  true  woman's  deepest  love  and  desire  are  for  her 
home  and  her  loved  ones,  and  planted  right  in  by  the  side 


SAMANTHA'S  HENS. 


of  these  two  loves  of  hern  is  a  deathless  instinct  and  desire 
to  protect  and  save  them  from  danger. 

"  Good  land  !  I  never  heard  a  old  hen  called  out  of  her 
spear,  and  unhenly,  because  she  would  fly  out  at  a  hawk, 
and  cackle  loud,  and  cluck,  and  try  to  lead  her  chickens 


74  SWEET  CICELY. 

off  into  safety.  And  while  the  rooster  is  a  steppin'  high, 
and  struttin'  round,  and  lookin'  surprised  and  injured,  it 
is  the  old  hen  that  saves  the  chickens,  nine  times  out  of  ten. 

"  It  is  against  the  evil  hawks,  —  men-hawks,  —  that  are 
ready  to  settle  down,  and  tear  the  young  and  innocent  out 
of  the  home  nest,  that  wimmen  are  tryin'  to  defend  thier 
children  from.  And  men  may  talk  about  wimmen's  gettin' 
too  excited  and  zealous  ;  but  they  don't  cluck  and  cackle 
half  so  loud  as  the  old  hen  does,  or  flutter  round  half  so 
earnest  and  fierce. 

"  And  the  chicken-hawk  hain't  to  be  compared  for  dan 
ger  to  the  men-hawks  Cicely  is  tryin'  to  save  her  boy 
from.  And  I  say  it  is  domestic  love  in  her  to  want  to 
protect  him,  and  tenderness,  and  nature,  and  grace,  and  — 
and  —  every  thing." 

I  wus  wrought  up,  and  felt  deeply,  and  couldn't  ex 
press  half  what  I  felt,  and  didn't  much  care  if  I  couldn't. 
I  wus  so  rousted  up,  I  felt  fairly  reckless  about  carin' 
whether  Josiah  or  anybody  understood  me  or  not.  I  knew 
the  Lord  understood  me,  and  I  knew  what  I  felt  in  my 
own  mind,  and  I  didn't  much  care  for  any  thing  else. 
Wiminen  do  have  such  spells.  They  get  fairly  wore  out 
a  tryin'  to  express  what  they  feel  in  thier  souls  to  a  gain- 
sayin'  world,  and  have  that  world  yell  out  at  'em,  "  Unwo 
manly  !  unwomanly  ! "  I  say,  Cicely  wuzn't  unwomanly. 
I  say,  that,  from  the  very  depths  of  her  lovin'  little  soul,  she 
wus  pure  womanly,  affectionate,  earnest,  tender-hearted, 
good ;  and,  if  anybody  tells  me  she  wuzn't,  I'll  know  the 
reason  why. 

But,  while  I  wus  a  reveryin'  this,  my  Josiah  spoke  out 
agin',  and  says,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  75 

"  Influence  the  world  through  your  child,  Cicely !  influence 
him,  and  let  him  influence  the  world.  Let  him  make  the 
world  better  and  purer  by  your  influencein'  it  through  him." 

"Why  not  use  that  influence  now,  myself'?  I  have  it 
here  right  in  my  heart,  all  that  I  could  hope  to  teach  to  my 
boy,  at  the  best.  And  why  wait,  and  set  my  hopes  of 
influencing  the  world  through  him,  when  a  thousand  things 
may  happen  to  weaken  that  influence,  and  death  and 
change  may  destroy  it  ?  Why,  my  one  great  fear  and 
dread  is,  that  my  boy  will  be  led  away  by  other,  stronger 
influences  than  mine,  —  the  temptations  that  have  over 
thrown  so  many  other  children  of  prayer  —  how  dare  I 
hope  that  my  boy  will  withstand  them  ?  And  death  may 
claim  him  before  he  could  bear  my  influence  to  the  world. 
Why  not  use  it  now,  myself,  to  help  him,  and  other 
mothers'  boys  ?  If  it  is,  as  you  say,  an  experiment,  why 
not  let  mothers  try  it  ?  It  could  not  do  any  harm ;  and  it 
would  ease  our  poor,  anxious  hearts  some,  to  make  the 
effort,  even  if  it  proved  useless.  No  one  can  have  a  deeper 
interest  in  the  children's  welfare  than  their  mothers. 
Would  they  be  apt  to  do  any  thing  to  harm  them?" 

And  then  I  spoke  up,  entirely  unbeknown  to  myself, 
and  says,  — 

"  Selfishness  has  had  its  way  for  years  and  years  in 
politics,  and  now  why  not  let  unselfishness  have  it  for  a 
change  ?  For,  Josiah  Allen,"  says  I  firmly,  "  you  know, 
and  I  know,  that,  if  there  is  any  unselfishness  in  this 
selfish  world,  it  is  in  the  heart  of  a  mother." 

"  It  would  be  apt  to  be  dangerous,"  says  Josiah,  crossin' 
his  left  leg  over  his  right  one,  and  turnin'  to  a  new  month 
in  the  almanac.  "It  would  most  likely  be  apt  to  be." 


76  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  Why  ?  "  says  Cicely.  •  "  Why  is  it  dangerous  ?  Why  is 
it  wrong  for  a  women  to  try  to  help  them  she  would  die 
for  ?  Yes,"  says  she  solemnly,  "  I  would  die  for  Paul  any 
time  if  I  knew  it  would  smooth  his  pathway,  make  it 
easier  for  him  to  be  a  good  man." 

"  Wall,  you  see,  Cicely,"  satys  Josiah  in  a  soft  tone,  — 
his  love  for  her  softenin'  and  smoothin'  out  his  axent  till 
it  sounded  almost  foolish  and  meachin',  —  "  you  see,  it 
would  be  dangerous  for  wimmen  to  vote,  because  votin' 
would  be  apt  to  lower  wimmen  in  the  opinion  of  us  men 
and  the  public  generally.  In  fact,  it  would  be  apt  to  lower 
wimmen  down  to  mingle  in  a  lower  class.  Arid  it  would 
gaul  me  dretfully,"  says  Josiah,  turnin'  to  me,  uto  have 
our  sweet  Cicely  lower  herself  into  a  lower  grade  of 
society :  it  would  cut  me  like  a  knife." 

And  then  I  spoke  right  up,  for  I  can't  stand  too  much 
foolishness  at  one  time  from  man  or  woman ;  and  I  says,  — 

"  I'd  love  to  have  you  speak  up,  Josiah  Allen,  and  tell 
me  how  wimmen  would  go  to  work  to  get  any  lower  in 
the  opinion  of  men ;  how  they  could  get  into  any  lower 
grade  of  society  than  they  are  minglin'  with  now.  They 
are  ranked  now  by  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  and  the 
will  of  men,  with  idiots,  lunatics,  and  criminals.  And 
how  pretty  it  looks  for  you  men  to  try  to  scare  us,  and 
make  us  think  there  is  a  lower  class  we  could  get  into ! 
There  hain't  any  lower  class  that  we  can  get  into  than  the 
ones  we  are  in  now ;  and  you  know  it,  Josiah  Allen.  And 
you  sha'n't  scare  Cicely  by  tryin'  to  make  her  think  there 
is." 

He  quailed.  He  knew  there  wuzn't.  He  knew  he  had 
said  it  to  scare  us,  Cicely  and  me,  and  he  felt  considerable 


SWEET  CICELY. 


11 


meachin'  to  think  he  had  got  found  out  in  it.  But  he 
went  on  in  ruther  of  a  meek  tone,  — 

"  It  would  be  apt  to  make  talk,  Cicely." 

"What  do  I  care  for  talk?"    says  she.     "What  do   I 
care     for    honor,    or 
praise,  or  blame?     I 
only  want  to  try  to 
save  my  boy." 

And  she  kep'  right 
on  with  her  tender, 
earnest  voice,  and 
her  eyes  a  shinin' 
like  stars, — 

"Have  I  not  a 
right  to  help  him? 
Is  he  not  my  child? 
Did  not  God  give  me 
a  right  to  him,  when 
I  went  down  into  the 
darkness  with  God 
alone,  and  a  soul  was 
given  into  my  hands  ? 
Did  I  not  suffer  for 
him  ?  Have  I  not 
been  blessed  in  him  ? 
Why,  his  little  hands 
held  me  back  from  CICELY  AND  HER  PEERS. 

the   gates    of    death. 

By  all  the  rights  of  heavenliest  joy  and  deepest  agony  — 
is  he  riot  mine?  Have  I  not  a  right  to  help  him  in  his 
future  ? 


78  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  Now  I  hold  him  in  my  arms,  my  flesh,  my  blood,  nry 
life.  I  hold  him  on  my  heart  now:  he  is  mine.  I  can 
shield  him  from  danger :  if  he  should  fall  into  the  flames, 
I  could  reach  in  after  him,  and  die  with  him,  or  save  him. 
God  and  man  give  me  that  right  now :  I  do  not  have  to 
ask  for  it. 

"  But  in  a  few  years  he  will  go  out  from  me,  carrying 
my  own  life  with  him,  my  heart  will  go  with  him,  to  joy 
or  to  death.  He  will  go  out  into  dangers  a  thousand-fold 
worse  than  death,  —  dangers  made  respectable  and  legal, 
—  and  I  can't  help  him. 

".?  his  mother,  who  would  die  for  him  any  hour  —  I 
must  stand  with  my  eyes  open,  but  my  hands  bound,  and 
see  him  rushing  headlong  into  flames  tenfold  hotter  than 
fire ;  see  him  on  the  brink  of  earthly  and  eternal  ruin,  and 
can't  reach  out  my  hand  to  hold  him  back.  My  boy  !  My 
own  !  Is  it  right  ?  Is  it  just  ?  " 

And  she  got  up,  and  walked  the  room  back  and  forth, 
and  says,  — 

"  How  can  I  bear  the  thought  of  it  ?  How  can  I  live 
and  endure  it?  And  how  can  I  die,  and  leave  the 
boy?" 

And  her  eyes  looked  so  big  and  bright,  and  that  spot  of 
red  would  look  so  bright  on  her  white  cheeks,  that  I  would 
get  skairt.  And  I'd  try  to  sooth  her  down,  and  talk 
gentle  to  her.  And  I  says,  — 

"  All  things  are  possible  with  God,  and  you  must  wait 
and  hope." 

But  she  says,  "  What  will  hope  do  for  me  when  my  boy 
is  lost  ?  I  want  to  save  him  now." 

It  did  beat  all,  as  I  told  Josiah,  out  to  one  side,  to  see 


SWEET  CICELY.  79 

such  hefty  principles  and  emotions  in  such  a  little  body. 
Why,  she  didn't  weigh  much  over  90,  if  she  did  any. 

And  Josiah  whispered  back,  "All  women  hain't  like 
Cicely." 

And  I  says  in  the  same  low,  deep  tones,  "  All  men  hain't 
like  George  Washington !  Now  get  me  a  pail  of  water." 

And  he  went  out.  But  it  did  beat  all,  how  that  little 
thing,  when  she  stood  ready,  seemin'ly,  to  tackle  the  na 
tion  —  I've  seen  her  jump  up  in  a  chair,  afraid  of  a  mice. 
The  idee  of  anybody  bein'  afraid  of  a  mice,  and  ready  to 
tackle  the  Constitution ! 

And  she'd  blush  up  red  as  a  rosy  if  a  stranger  would 
speak  to  her.  But  she  would  fight  the  hull  nation  for 
her  boy. 

And  I'd  try  to  sooth  her  (for  that  red  spot  on  her  cheeks 
skairt  me,  and  I  foreboded  about  her).  I  said  to  her  after 
Josiah  went  out,  a  holdin'  her  little  hot  hands  in  mine,  — 
for  sometimes  her  hands  would  be  hot  and  feverish,  and 
then,  agin,  like  two  snowflakes,  — 

"  Cicely,  women's  voting  on  intemperance  would,  as 
your  uncle  Josiah  says,  be  a  experiment.  I  candidly  think 
and  believe  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing,  —  a  blessin'  to 
the  youth  of  the  land,  a  comfort  to  the  females,  and  no 
harm 'to  the  males.  But,  after  all,  we  don't  know  what 
it  would  do  "  — 

"  I  know"  says  she.  And  her  eyes  had  such  a  far-off, 
prophetic  look  in  'em,  that  I  declare  for't,  if  I  didn't  al 
most  think  she  did  know.  I  says  to  myself,  — 

"  She's  so  sweet  and  unselfish  and  good,  that  I  believe 
she's  more  than  half-ways  into  heaven  now.  The  Holy 
Scriptures,  that  I  believe  in,  says,  'Blessed  are  the  pure 


80  SWEET  CICELY. 

in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God.'  And  it  don't  say  where 
they  shall  see  Him,  or  when.  And  it  don't  say  that  the 
light  that  fell  from  on  high  upon  the  blessed  mother  of  our 
Lord,  shall  never  fall  again  on  other  heart-broken  mothers, 
on  other  pure  souls  beloved  of  Him." 

And  it  is  the  honest  truth,  that  it  would  not  have  sur 
prised  me  much  sometimes,  as  she  wus  settin'  in  the  twi 
light  with  the  boy  in  her  arms,  if  I  had  seen  a  halo  round 
her  head ;  and  so  I  told  Josiah  one  night,  after  she  had 
been  a  settin'  there  a  holdin'  the  boy,  and  a  singin'  low  to 
him,  — 

"  *  A  charge  to«lieep  I  have,  — 

A  God  to  glorify  ; 
A  never-dying  soul  to  save, 
And  fit  it  for  the  sky.' " 

It  wuzn't  her  soul  she  wus  a  thinkin'  of,  I  knew.  She 
didn't  think  of  herself :  she  never  did. 

And  after  she  went  to  bed,  I  mentioned  the  halo.  And 
Josiah  asked  what  that  was.  And  I  told  him  it  was  "  the 
inner  glory  that  shines  out  from  a  pure  soul,  and  crowns  a 
holy  life." 

And  he  said  "  he  s'posed  it  was  some  sort  of  a  head 
dress.  Wimmen  was  so  full  of  new  names,  he  thought  it 
was  some  new  kind  of  a  crowfar." 

I  knew  what  he  meant.  He  didn't  mean  crowfar,  he 
meant  crowfure.  That  is  French.  But  I  wouldn't  hurt 
his  feelin's  by  correctin'  him ;  for  I  thought  "  fur "  or 
"fare,"  it  didn't  make  much  of  any  difference. 

Wall,  the  very  next  day,  when  Josiah  came  from  Jones- 
ville,  —  he  had  been  to  mill,  —  he  brought  Cicely  a  letter 


A   CHARGE   TO    KEEP    I   HAVE. 


82  SWEET  CICELY. 

from  her  aunt  Mary.  She  wanted  her  to  come  on  at  once; 
for  her  daughter,  who  wus  a  runnin'  down,  wus  supposed 
to  be  a  runnin'  faster  than  she  had  run.  Arid  her  aunt 
Mary  was  goin'  to  start  for  the  Michigan  very  soon,  —  as 
soon  as  she  got  well  enough  :  she  wasn't  feelin'  well  when 
she  wrote.  And  she  wanted  Cicely  to  come  at  once. 

So  she  went  the  next  day,  but  promised  that  jest  as 
quick  as  she  got  through  visitin'  her  aunt  and  her  other 
relations  there,  she  would  come  back  here. 

So  she  went ;  and  I  missed  her  dretfully,  and  should 
have  missed  her  more  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  state  my 
companion  returned  in  after  he  had  carried  Cicely  to  the 
train. 

He  come  home  rampant  with  a  new  idee.  All  wrought 
up  about  goin'  into  politics.  He  broached  the  subject  to 
me  before  he  onharnessed,  hitchin'  the  old  mair  for  the 
purpose.  He  wanted  to  be  United-States  senator.  He 
said  he  thought  the  nation  needed  him. 

44  Needs  you  for  what  ? "  says  I  coldly,  cold  as  a  ice 
suckle. 

"  Why,  it  needs  somebody  it  can  lean  on,  and  it  needs 
somebody  that  can  lean.  I  am  a  popular  man,"  says  he. 
"  And  if  I  can  help  the  nation,  I  will  be  glad  to  do  it ;  and 
if  the  nation  can  help  me,  I  am  willin'.  The  change  from 
Jonesville  to  Washington  will  be  agreeable  and  relaxin', 
and  I  lay  out  to  try  it:" 

Says  I,  in  sarkastick  tones,  "  It  is  a  pity  you  hain't  got 
your  free  pass  to  go  on:  —  you  remember  that  incident, 
don't  you,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 

44  What  of  it  ?  "  he  snapped  out.     "  What  if  I  do  ?  " 

44  Wall,  I  thought  then,  that,  when  you  got  high-headed 


SWEET  CICELY.  83 

and  haughty  on  any  subject  agin,  mebby  you  would  re 
member  that  pass,  and  be  more  modest  and  unassuming." 

He  riz  right  up,  and  hollered  at  me,  — 

"  Throw  that  pass  in  my  face,  will  you,  at  this  time  of 
year  ?  " 

And  he  started  for  the  barn,  almost  on  the  run. 

But  I  didn't  care.  I  wus  bound  to  break  up  this  idee 
of  hisen  at  once.  If  I  hadn't  been,  I  shouldn't  have  men 
tioned  the  free  pass  to  him.  For  it  is  a  subject  so  gaulin' 
to  him,  that  I  never  allude  to  it  only  in  cases  of  extreme 
danger  and  peril,  or  uncommon  high-headedness. 

Now  T  have  mentioned  it,  I  don't  know  but  it  will  be 
expected  of  me  to  tell  about  this  pass  of  hisen.  But,  if  I 
do,  it  mustn't  go  no  further  ;  for  Josiah  would  be  mad,  mad 
as  a  hen,  if  he  knew  I  told  about  it. 

I  will  relate  the  history  in  another  epistol. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THIS  free  pass  of  Josiah  Allen's  wus  indeed  a  strange 
incident,  and  it  made  sights  and  sights  of  talk. 

But  of  course  there  wus  considerable  lyin'  about  it,  as 
you  know  the  way  is.  Why,  it  does  beat  all  how  stories 
will  grow. 

Why,  when  I  hear  a  story  nowadays,  I  always  allow  a 
full  half  for  shrinkage,  and  sometimes  three-quarters ;  and 
a  good  many  times  that  hain't  enough.  Such  awful  lyin' 
times  !  It  duz  beat  all. 

But  about  this  strange  thing  that  took  place  and  hap 
pened,  I  will  proceed  and  relate  the  plain  and  unvarnished 
history  of  it.  And  what  I  set  down,  in  this  epistol,  you 
can  depend  upon.  It  is  the  plain  truth,  entirely  unvar 
nished  :  not  a  mite  of  varnish  will  there  be  on  it. 

A  little  over  two  years  ago  Josiah  Allen,  my  companion, 
had  a  opportunity  to  buy  a  wood-lot  cheap.  It  wus  about^ 
a  mild  and  a  half  from  here,  and  one  side  of  the  lot  run 
along  by  the  side  of  the  railroad.  A  Irishman  had  owned 
it  previous  and  prior  to  this  time,  and  had  built  a  little 
shanty  on  it,  and  a  pig-pen.  But  times  got  hard,  the  pig 
died,  and  owing  to  that,  and  other  financikal  difficulties, 
the  Irishman  had  to  sell  the  place,  "  ten  acres  more  or 

84 


I-    '  S 

. 


86  SWEET  CICELY. 

less,  runnin'  up  to  a  stake,  and  back  again,"  as  the  law 
directs. 

Wall,  he  beset  my  companion  Josiah  to  buy  it ;  and  as 
he  had  plenty  of  money  in  the  Jonesville  bank  to  pay 
for  it,  and  the  wood  on  our  wood-lot  wus  gettin'  pretty 
well  thinned  out,  I  didn't  make  no  objection  to  the  enter- 
prize,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  encouraged  him  in  it. 
And  so  he  made  the  bargain  with  him,  the  deed  wus  made 
out,  the  Irishman  paid.  And  Josiah  put  a  lot  of  wood- 
choppers  in  there  to  work ;  and  they  cut,  and  drawed  the 
wood  to  Jonesville,  and  made  money.  Made  more  than 
enough  the  first  six  months  to  pay  for  the  expenditure 
and  outlay  of  money  for  the  lot. 

He  did  well.  And  he  calculated  to  do  still  better;  for 
he  said  the  place  bein'  so  near  Jonesville,  he  laid  out, 
after  he  had  got  the  wood  off,  and  sold  it,  and  kep'  what 
he  wanted,  he  calculated  and  laid  out  to  sell  the  place  for 
twice  what  he  give  for  it.  Josiah  Allen  hain't  nobody's 
fool  in  a  bargain,  a  good  deal  of  the  time  he  hain't.  He 
knows  how  to  make  good  calculations  a  good  deal  of  the 
time.  He  thought  somebody  would  want  the  place  to 
build  on. 

Wall,  I  asked  him  one  day  what  he  laid  out  to  do  with 
the  shanty  and  the  pig-pen  that  wus  on  it.  The  pig-pen 
wus  right  by  the  side  of  the  railroad-track. 

And  he  said  he  laid  out  to  tear  'em  down,  and  draw  the 
lumber  home :  he  said  the  boards  would  come  handy  to 
use  about  the  premises. 

Wall, 'I  told  him  I  thought  that  would  be  a  good  plan, 
or  words  to  that  effect.  I  can't  remember  the  exact  words 
I  used,  not  expectin'  that  I  would  ever  have  to  remember 


SWEET  CICELY.  87 

back,  and  lay  'em  to  heart.  Which  I  should  not  had  it 
not  been  for  the  strange  and  singular  things  that  occurred 
and  took  place  afterwards. 

Then  I  asked  my  companion,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
"When  he  laid  out  to  draw  the  boards  home?"  For 
I  mistrusted  there  would  be  some  planks  amongst  'em, 
and  I  wanted  a  couple  to  lay  down  from  the  back-door  to 
the  pump.  The  old  ones  wus  gettin'  all  cracked  up  and 
broke  in  spots. 

And  he  said  he  should  draw  'em  up  the  first  day  he 
could  spare  the  team.  Wall,  this  wus  along  in  the  first 
week  in  April  that  we  had  this  talk :  warm  and  pleasant 
the  weather  wus,  exceedingly  so,  for  the  time  of  year. 
And  I  proposed  to  him  that  we  should  have  the  children 
come  home  on  the  8th  of  April,  which  wus  Thomas  J.'s 
birthday,  and  have  as  nice  a  dinner  as  we  could  get,  and 
buy  a  handsome  present  for  him.  And  Josiah  was  very 
agreeable  to  the  idee  (for  when  did  a  man  ever  look 
scornfully  on  the  idee  of  a  good  dinner?). 

And  so  the  next  day  I  went  to .  work,  and  cooked  up 
every  thing  I  could  think  of  that  would  be  good.  I  made 
cakes  of  all  kinds,  and  tarts,  and  jellys.  And  I  wus 
goin'  to  have  spring  lamb  and  a  chicken-pie  (a  layer  of 
chicken,  and  a  layer  of  oysters.  I  can  make  a  chicken- 
pie  that  will  melt  in  your  mouth,  though  I  am  fur  from 
bein'  the  one  that  ort  to  say  it) ;  and  I  wus  goin'  to  have 
a  baked  fowl,  and  vegetables  of  all  kinds,  and  every  thing 
else  I  could  think  of  that  wus  good.  And  I  baked  a  large 
plum-cake  a  purpose  for  Whitfield,  with  "  Our  Son  "  on  it 
in  big  red  sugar  letters,  and  the  dates  of  his  birth  and  the 
present  date  on  each  side  of  it. 


88  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  do  well  by  the  children,  Josiah  says  I  do ;  and  they 
see  it  now,  the  children  do ;  they  see  it  plainer  every  day, 
they  say  they  do.  They  say,  that  since  they  have  gone 
out  into  the  world  more,  and  seen  more  of  the  coldness 
and  selfishness  of  the  world,  they  appreciate  more  and 
more  the  faithful  affection  of  her  whose  name  wus  once 
Smith. 

Yes,  they  like  me  better  and  better  every  year,  they 
say  they  do.  And  they  treat  me  pretty,  dretful  pretty. 
I  don't  want  to  be  treated  prettier  by  anybody  than  the 
children  treat  me. 

And  their  affectionate  devotion  pays  me,  it  pays  me 
richly,  for  all  the  care  and  anxiety  they  caused  me. 
There  hain't  no  paymaster  like  Love :  he  pays  the  best 
wages,  and  the  most  satisfy  in',  of  anybody  I  ever  see. 
But  I  am  a  eppisodin',  and  to  resoom  and  continue  on. 

Wall!  the  dinner  passed  off  perfectly  delightful  and 
agreeable.  The  children  and  Josiah  eat  as  if —  Wall, 
suffice  it  to  say,  the  way  they  eat  wus  a  great  compliment 
to  the  cook,  and  I  took  it  so. 

Thomas  J.  wus  highly  delighted  with  his  presents.  I 
got  him  a  nice  white  willow  rockin '-chair,  with  red  ribbons 
run  all  round  the  back,  and  bows  of  the  same  on  top, 
and  a  red  cushion,  —  a  soft  feather  cushion  that  I  made 
myself  for  it,  covered  with  crimson  rep  (wool  goods,  very 
nice).  Why,  the  cushion  cost  me  above  60  cents,  besides 
my  work  and  the  feathers. 

Josiah  proposed  to  get  him  a  acordeun,  but  I  talked 
him  out  of  that ;  and  then  he  wanted  to  get  him  a  bright 
blue  necktie.  But  I  perswaided  him  to  give  him  a  hand 
some  china  coffee  cup  and  saucer,  with  "  To  My  Son  " 


SWEET  CICELY.  89 

painted  on  it ;  and  I  urged  him  to  give  him  that,  with  ten 
new  silver  dollars  in  it.  Says  I,  "  He  is  all  the  son  you 
have  got,  and  a  good  son."  And  Josiah  consented  after  a 
parlay.  Why,  the  chair  I  give  him  cost  about  as  much  as 
that ;  and  it  wuzn't  none  too  good,  not  at  all. 

Wall,  he  had  a  lovely  day.  And  what  made  it  pleas- 
anter,  we  had  a  prospect  of  havin'  another  jest  as  good. 
For  in  about  2  months'  time  it  would  be  Tirzah's  Ann's 
birthday ;  and  we  both  told  her,  Josiah  and  me,  both  did, 
that  she  must  get  ready  for  jest  another  such  a  time.  For 
we  laid  out  to  treat  'em  both  alike  (which  is  both  Christian 
and  common  sense).  And  we  told  'em  they  must  all  be 
ready  to  come  home  that  day,  Providence  and  the  weather 
permittin'. 

Wall,  it  wus  so  awful  pleasant  when  the  children  got 
ready  to  go  home,  that  Josiah  proposed  that  he  and  me 
should  go  along  to  Jonesville  with  'em,  and  carry  little 
Samantha  Joe.  And  I  wus  very  agreeable  to  the  idee, 
bein'  a  little  tired,  and  thinkin'  such  a  ride  would  be  both 
restful  and  refreshin'. 

And,  oh !  how  beautiful  every  thing  looked  as  we  rode 
along  !  The  sun  wus  goin'  down  in  glory  ;  and  Jonesville 
layin'  to  the  west  of  us,  we  seemed  to  be  a  ridin'  along 
right  into  that  glory  —  right  towards  them  golden  palaces, 
and  towers  of  splendor,  that  riz  up  from  the  sea  of  gold. 
And  behind  them  shinin'  towers  wus  shadowy  mountain 
ranges  of  softest  color,  that  melted  up  into  the  tender  blue 
of  the  April  sky.  And  right  in  the  east  a  full  moon  wuz 
sailin',  lookin'  down  tenderly  on  Josiah  and  me  and  the 
babe  —  and  Jonesville  and  the  world.  And  the  comet  sot 
there  up  in  the  sky  like  a  silent  and  shinin'  mystery. 


90 


SWEET  CICELY. 


The  babe's  eyes  looked  big  and  dreamy  and  thoughtful. 
She  has  got  the  beautifulest  eyes,  little  Samantha  Joe  has. 
You  can  look  down  deep  into  'em,  and  see  yourself  in  'em ; 
but,  beyond  yourself,  what  is  it  you  can  see  ?  I  can't  tell, 
nor  nobody.  The  ellusive,  wonderful  beauty  that  lays  in 


GOD'S  COMMA. 


the  innocent  baby  eyes  of  little  Samantha  Joe.  The 
sweet,  fur-off  look,  as  if  she  wus  a  lookin'  right  through 
this  world  into  a  fairer  and  more  peaceful  one. 

And  how  smart  they  be,  who  can  answer  their  question 
ing, —  questionin'  about   every  thing.    "Nobody   can't  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  91 

Josiah  can't,  nor  I,  nor  nobody.  Pretty  soon  she  looked 
up  at  the  comet ;  and  says  she,  "  Nama,"  —  she  can't  say 
grandma,  —  "  Nama,  is  that  God's  comma  ?  " 

Now,  jest  see  how  deep  that  wuz,  and  beautiful,  very. 
The  heavens  wuz  full  of  the  writin'  of  God,  writin'  we 
can't  read  yet,  and  translate  into  our  coarser  language ; 
and  she,  with  her  deep,  beautiful  eyes,  a  readin'  it  jest  as 
plain  as  print,  and  puttin'  in  all  the  marks  of  punctuation. 
Readin'  the  marvellous  poem  of  glory,  with  its  tremblm' 
pause  of  flame. 

Josiah  says,  it  is  because  she  couldn't  say  comet ;  but  I 
know  better.  Says  I,  "Josiah  Allen,  hain't  it  the  same 
shape  as  a  comma  ?  " 

And  he  had  to  gin  it  up  that  it  was.  And  in  a  minute 
or  two  she  says  agin,  — 

"  Nama,  what  is  the  comma  up  there  for  ?  " 

Now  hear  that,  how  deep  that  wuz.  Who  could  answer 
that  question  ?  I  couldn't,  nor  Josiah  couldn't.  Nor  the 
wisest  philosopher  that  ever  walked  the  earth,  not  one  of 
'em.  From  them  that  kept  their  night-watches  on  the 
newly  built  pyramids,  to  the  astronimers  of  to-day  who 
are  spending  their  lives  in  the  study  of  the  heavens.  If 
every  one  of  them  learned  men  of  the  world,  livin'  and 
dead,  if  they  all  stood  in  rows  in  our  door-yard  in  front 
of  little  Samantha  Joe,  they  would  have  to  bow  their 
haughty  heads  before  her,  and  put  their  finger  on  their 
lips.  Them  lips  could  say  very  large  words  in  every  lan 
guage  under  the  sun  ;  but  they  couldn't  answer  my  baby's 
question,  not  one  of  'em. 

But  I  am  eppisodiii'  fearfully,  fearfully ;  and  to  re- 
soom. 


92  SWEET  CICELY. 

We  left  the  children  and  the  babe  safe  in  their  respec 
tive  housen',  and  happy;  and  we  went  on  placidly  to 
Jonesville,  got  our  usual  groceries,  and  stopped  to  the 
post-office.  Josiah  went  into  the  office,  and  come  out 
with  his  "  World,"  and  one  letter,  a  big  letter  with  a  blue 
envelope.  I  thought  it  had  a  sort  of  a  queer  look,  but  I 
didn't  say  nothin'.  And  it  bein'  sort  o'  darkish,  he  didn't 
try  to  open  it  till  we  got  home.  Only  I  says,  — 

"  Who  do  you  s'pose  your  letter  is  from,  Josiah  Allen?  " 

And  he  says,  "  I  don't  know :  the  postmaster  had  a 
awful  time  a  try  in'  to  make  out  who  it  was  to.  I  should 
think,  by  his  tell,  it  wus  the  dumbdest  writin'  that  ever 
wus  seen.  I  should  think,  by  his  tell,  it  went  ahead  of 
yourn." 

"Wall,"  says  I,  "there  is  no  need  of  your  swearin'." 
Says  I,  "If  I  wus  a  grandfather,  Josiah  Allen,  I  would 
choose  my  words  with  a  little  more  decency,  not  to  say 
morality." 

"  Wall,  wall !  your  writin'  is  enough  to  make  a  man 
sweat,  and  you  know  it." 

"  I  hain't  disputed  it,"  says  I  with  dignity.  And  havin' 
laid  the  blame  of  the  bad  writin'  of  the  letter  he  had  got, 
off  onto  his  companion,  as  the  way  of  male  pardners  is, 
he  felt  easy  and  comfortable  in  his  mind,  and  talked  agree 
able  all  the  way  home,  and  affectionate,  some. 

Wall,  we  got  home ;  and  I  lit  a  light,  and  fixed  the  fire 
so  it  burnt  bright  and  clear.  And  I  drawed  up  a  stand  in 
front  of  the  fire,  with  a  bright  crimson  spread  on  it,  for 
the  lamp ;  and  I  put  Josiah's  rockin'-chair  and  mine,  one 
on  each  side  of  it ;  and  put  Josiah's  slippers  in  front  of 
the  hearth  to  warm.  And  then  I  took  my  knittin'-work, 


SWEET  CICELY. 


93 


JOSIAH   BEADING   THE    LETTER. 


94  SWEET  CICELY. 

and  went  to  knittiri' ;  and  by  that  time  Josiah  had  got  his 
barn-chores  all  done,  and  come  in. 

And  the  very  first  thing  he  did  after  he  come  in,  and 
drawed  off  his  boots,  and  wondered  "why  under  the 
gracious  heavens  it  was,  that  the  bootjack  never  could  be 
found  where  he  had  left  it "  (which  was  right  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  settin'-room  floor).  But  he  found  it  hangin' 
up  in  its  usual  place  in  the  closet,  only  a  coat  had  got 
hung  up  over  it  so  he  couldn't  see  it  for  half  a  minute. 

And  after  he  had  his  warm  slippers  on,  and  got  sot 
down  in  his  easy-chair  opposite  to  his  beloved  companion, 
he  grew  calmer  again,  and  more  placider,  and  drawed  out 
that  letter  from  his  pocket. 

And  I  sot  there  a  knittin',  and  a  watchin'  my  compan 
ion's  face  at  the  same  time ;  and  I  see  that  as  he  read  the 
letter,  he  looked  smut,  and  sort  o'  wonder-struck :  and 
says  I, — 

"  Who  is  your  letter  from,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 

And  he  says,  lookin'  up  on  top  of  it,  — 

"  It  is  from  the  headquarters  of  the  Railroad  Company ; " 
and  says  he,  lookin'  close  at  it  agin,  "As  near  as  I  can 
make  out,  it  is  a  free  pass  for  me  to  ride  on  the  rail 
road." 

Says  I,  "  Why,  that  can't  be,  Josiah  Allen.  Why  should 
they  give  you  a  free  pass  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  says  he.  "  But  I  know  it  is  one.  The 
more  I  look  at  it,"  says  he,  growin'  excited  over  it, — 
"  the  more  I  look  at  it,  the  plainer  I  can  see  it.  It  is  a 
free  pass." 

Says  I,  "  I  don't  believe  it,  Josiah  Allen." 

"  Wall,  look  at  it  for  yourself,  Samantha  Allen  "  (when 


SWEET  CICELY.  95 

he  is  dretful  excited,  he  always  calls  me  Samantha  Allen), 
"  and  see  what  it  is,  if  it  hain't  that ;  "  and  he  thro  wed  it 
into  my  lap. 

I  looked  at  it  close  and  severe,  but  not  one  word  could 
I  make  out,  only  I  thought  I  could  partly  make  out  the 


COPY  OF  THE  LETTER:  FKEE  PASS. 

word  "remove,"  and  along  down  the  sheet  the  word 
"  place,"  and  there  wus  one  word  that  did  look  like  "  free." 
And  Josiah  jumped  at  them  words ;  and  says  he,  — 

"  It  means,  you  know,  the  pass  reads  like  this,  for  me  to 
remove  myself  from  place  to  place,  free.  Don't  you  see 
through  it  ?  "  says  he. 


96  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  No,"  says  I,  holdin'  the  paper  up  to  the  light.  "  No, 
I  don't  see  through  it,  far  from  it." 

"  Wall,"  says  he,  highly  excited  and  tickled,  "  I'll  try 
it  to-morrow,  anyway.  I'll  see  whether  I  am  in  the  right, 
or  not." 

And  he  went  on  dreamily,  "  Lemme  see  —  I  have  got 
to  move  that  lumber  in  the  mornin'  up  from  my  wood-lot. 
But  it  won't  take  me  more'n  a  couple  of  hours,  or  so,  and 
in  the  afternoon  I'll  take  a  start." 

Says  I,  "  What  under  the  sun,  Josiah  Allen,  should  the 
Railroad  Company  give  you  a  free  pass  for  ?  " 

"Wall,"  says  he,  " I  have  my  thoughts." 

He  spoke  in  a  dretful  sort  of  a  mysterious  way,  but 
proud;  and  I  says, — 

"  What  do  you  think  is  the  reason,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 

And  he  says,  "It  hain't  always  best  to  tell  what  you 
think.  I  hain't  obleeged  to,"  says  he. 

And  I  says,  "No.  As  the  poet  saith,  nobody  hain't 
obleeged  to  use  common  sense  unless  they  have  got  it ;  " 
and  I  says,  in  a  meanin'  tone,  "No,  I  can't  obleege  you  to 
tell  me." 

Wall,  sure  enough,  the  next  day,  jest  as  quick  as  he 
got  that  lumber  drawed  up  to  the  house,  Josiah  Allen 
dressed  up,  and  sot  off  for  Jonesville,  and  come  home  at 
night  as  tickled  a  man  as  I  ever  see,  if  not  tickleder. 

Arid  he  says,  "  Now  what  do  you  think,  Samantha 
Allen  ?  Now  what  do  you  think  about  my  ridin'  on  that 
pass?" 

And  I  says,  "  Have  you  rode  on  it,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 

And  he  says,  "  Yes,  mom,  I  have.  I  have  rode  to  Loon- 
town  and  back ;  and  I  might  have  gone  ten  times  as  fur, 
and  not  a  word  been  said." 


SWEET  CICELY. 


97 


And  I  says,  "  What  did  the  conductor  say  ?  " 
And  he  says,  "  He  didn't  say  nothin'.     When  he  asked 
me  for  my  fare,  I  told  him  I  had  a  free  pass,  and  I  showed 
it  to  him.     And  he  took  it,  and  looked  at  it  close,  and 


LOOKING   DUBERSOME. 


took  out  his  specks,  and  looked  and  looked  at  it  for  a 
number  of  minutes ;  and  then  he  handed  it  back  to  me, 
and  I  put  it  into  my  pocket ;  and  that  wus  all  there  was 
of  it." 


98  SWEET  CICELY. 

Says  I,  "How  did  the  conductor  look  when  he  was 
a  readin'  it?" 

And  he  owned  up  that  he  looked  dubersome.  But, 
says  he,  "I  rode  on  it,  and  I  told  you  that  I  could." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  sithin',  "  there  is  a  great  mystery  about 
it." 

Says  he,  "  There  hain't  no  mystery  to  me." 

And  then  I  beset  him  agin  to  tell  me  what  he  thought 
the  reason  wus  they  give  it  to  him. 

And  he  said  "he  thought  it  was  because  he  was  so 
smart."  Says  he,  "  I  am  a  dumb  smart  feller,  Samaiitha, 
though  I  never  could  make  you  see  it  as  plain  as  I  wanted 
to."  And  then  says  he,  a  goin'  on  prouder  and  prouder 
every  minute,  — 

"I  am  pretty-lookin'.  I  am  what  you  might  call  a 
orniment  to  any  car  on  the  track.  T  kinder  set  a  car  off, 
and  make  'em  look  respectable  and  dressy.  And  I'm  what 
you  might  call  a  influential  man,  and  I  s'pose  the  rail 
road-men  want  to  keep  the  right  side  of  me.  And  they 
have  took  the  right  way  to  do  it.  I  shall  speak  well  of 
'em  as  long  as  I  can  ride  free.  And,  oh !  what  solid  com 
fort  I  shall  take,  Samantha,  a  ridin'  on  that  pass  !  I 
calculate  to  see  the  world  now.  And  there  is  nothin' 
under  the  sun  to  hender  you  from  goin'  with  me.  As 
long  as  you  are  the  wife  of  such  a  influential  and  popular 
man  as  I  be,  it  don't  look  well  for  you  to  go  a  mopein' 
along  afoot,  or  with  the  old  mare.  We  will  ride  in  the 
future  on  my  free  pass." 

"No,"  says  I.  "I  sha'n't  ride  off  on  a  mystery.  I 
prefer  a  mare." 

Says  he,  for  he  wus  that  proud  and  excited  that  you 
couldn't  stop  him  nohow,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  99 

"It  will  be  a  dretful  savin'  of  money,  but  that  hain't 
what  I  think  of  the  most.  It  is  the  honor  they  are  a 
heapin'  onto  me.  To  think  that  they  think  so  much  of 
me,  set  such  a  store  by  me,  and  look  up  to  me  so,  that 
they  send  me  a  free  pass  without  my  makin'  a  move  to 
ask  for  it.  Why,  it  shows  plain,  Samantha,  that  I  am  one 
of  the  first  men  of  the  age." 

And  so  he  would  go  on  from  hour  to  hour,  and  from 
day  to  day ;  and  I  wus  that  dumbfoundered  and  wonderin' 
about  it,  that  I  couldn't  for  my  life  tell  what  to  think  of 
it.  It  worried  me. 

But  from  that  day  Josiah  Allen  rode  on  that  pass,  every 
chance  he  got.  Why,  he  went  to  the  Ohio  on  it,  on  a 
visit  to  his  first  wive 's  sister;  and  he  went  to  Michigan  on 
it,  and  to  the  South,  and  everywhere  he  could  think  of. 
Why,  he  fairly  hunted  up  relations  on  it,  and  I  told  him 
so. 

And  after  he  got  'em  hunted  up,  he'd  take  them  onto 
that  pass,  and  ride  round  with  'em  on  it. 

And  he  told  every  one  of  'em,  he  told  everybody,  that 
he  thought  as  much  agin  of  the  honor  as  he  did  of  the 
money.  It  showed  that  he  wus  thought  so  much  of,  not 
only  in  Jonesville,  but  the  world  at  large. 

Why,  he  took  such  solid  comfort  in  it,  that  it  did  hon 
estly  seem  as  if  he  grew  fat,  he  wus  so  puffed  up  by  it, 
and  proud.  And  some  of  the  neighbors  that  he  boasted 
so  before,  wus  eat  up  with  envy,  and  seemed  mad  to  think 
he  had  come  to  such  honor,  and  they  hadn't.  But  the 
madder  they  acted,  the  tickleder  he  seemed,  and  more 
prouder,  and  high-headeder. 

But  I  could  not  feel  so.     I  felt  that  there  wus  sunthin' 


100  SWEET  CICELY. 

strange  and  curius  about  it.  And  it  wus  very,  very 
seldom  that  Josiah  could  get  me  to  ride  on  it.  Though  I 
did  take  a  few  short  journeys  on  it,  to  please  him.  But 
I  felt  sort  o'  uneasy  while  I  was  a  ridin'  on  it,  same  as 
you  feel  when  you  are  goin'  up-hill  with  a  heavy  load  and 
a  little  horse.  You  kinder  stand  on  your  feet,  and  lean 
forward,  as  if  your  bein'  oncomfortable,  and  standin'  up, 
helped  the  horse  some. 

I  had  a  good  deal  of  that  restless  feelin',  and  oneasy. 
And  as  I  told  Josiah  time  and  time  again,  "that  for  stiddy 
ridin'  I  preferred  a  mare  to  a  mystery." 

Wall,  it  run  along  for  a  year ;  and  Josiah  said  he  s'posed 
he'd  have  to  write  on,  and  get  the  pass  renewed.  As  near 
as  he  could  make  out,  it  run  out  about  the  4th  day  of 
April.  So  he  wrote  down  to  the  head  one  in  New-York 
village ;  and  the  answer  came  back  by  return  mail,  and 
wrote  in  plain  writin'  so  we  could  read  it. 

It  seemed  there  wus  a  mistake.  It  wuzn't  a  free  pass, 
it  wus  a  order  for  Josiah  Allen  to  remove  a  pig-pen  from 
his  place  on  the  railroad-track  within  three  days. 

There  it  wuz,  a  order  to  remove  a  nuisence ;  and  Josiah 
Allen  had  been  a  ridin'  on  it  for  a  year,  with  pride  in  his 
mean,  and  haughtiness  in  his  demeanor. 

Wall,  I  never  see  a  man  more  mortified  and  cut  up  than 
Josiah  Allen  wuz.  If  he  hadn't  boasted  so  over  its  bein' 
gin  to  him  on  account  of  his  bein'  so  smart  and  popular 
and  etcetery,  he  wouldn't  have  felt  so  cut  up.  But  as  it 
was,  it  bowed  down  his  bald  head  into  the  dust  (allegory). 

But  he  didn't  stay  bowed  down  for  any  length  of  time : 
truly,  men  are  constituted  in  such  a  way  that  mortification 
don't  show  on  'em  for  any  length  of  time. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


101 


But  it  made  sights  and  sights  of  talk  in  Jonesville.  The 
Jonesvillians  made  sights  and  sights  of  fun  of  him,  poked 
fun  at  him,  and  snickered.  I  myself  didn't  say  much :  it 
hain't  my  way.  I  merely  says  this  :  says  I,  — 

"  You  thought  you  wus  so  awful  popular,  Josiah  Allen, 
mebby  you  won't  go  round  with  so  haughty  a  mean  onto 
you  right  away." 

"  Throw  my  mean  in  my  face  if  you  want  to,"  says  he. 
"  But  I  guess,"  says  he,  "  it  will  learn  'em  another  time  to 
take  a  little  more  pains  with  their  duck's  tracks,  dumb 
'em ! " 

Says  I,  "  Stop  instantly."  And  he  knew  what  I  meant, 
and  stopped. 


J 


JOSIAH   AND   HIS   DELATIONS   ON   THE    PASS    (p.  99). 


CHAPTER  V. 

JOSIAH  is  as  kind-hearted  a  man  as  was  ever  made. 
And  he  loves  me  with  a  devotion,  that  though  hidden  some 
times,  like  volcanic  fires,  and  other  married  men's  affec 
tions  for  their  wives,  yet  it  bursts  out  occasionally  in 
spurts  and  jets  of  unexpected  tenderness. 

Now,  the  very  next  mornin'  after  Cicely  left  for  her  aunt 
Mary's,  he  gave  me  a  flaming  proof  of  that  hidden  fire  that 
burns  but  don't  consume  him. 

A  agent  come  to  our  dwelling,  and  with  the  bland  and 
amiable  air  of  their  sect,  asked  me,  — 

"  If  I  would  buy  a  encyclopedia  ?  " 

I  was  favorable  to  the  idee,  and  showed  it  by  my  looks 
and  words ;  but  Josiah  wus  awful  set  against  it.  And  the 
more  favorable  I  talked  about  it,  the  more  horrow-struck 
and  skairt  Josiah  Allen  looked.  And  finally  he  got  behind 
the  agent,  and  winked  at  me,  and  made  motions  for  me  to 
foller-him  into  the  buttery.  He  wunk  several  times  be 
fore  I  paid  much  attention  to  'em ;  but  finally,  the  winks 
grew  so  violent,  and  the  motions  so  imperious,  yet  clever, 
that  I  got  up,  and  f oiler ed  him  into  the  buttery.  He 
shet  the  door,  and  stood  with  his  back  against  it ;  and  says 
to  me,  with  his  voice  fairly  tremblin'  with  his  emotions,  — 
102 


SWEET  CICELY.  103 

"  It  will  throw  you,  Samantha !  you  don't  want  to  buy 
it." 

"  What  will  throw  me  ?  and  when  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  you  can't  never  ride  it !  How  should 
I  feel  to  see  you  on  one  of  'em  !  It  skairs  me  most  to 
death  to  see  a  boy  ride  'em ;  and  at  your  age,  and  with 
your  rheumatiz,  you'd  get  throwed,  and  get  your  neck 
broke,  the  first  day."  Says  he,  "  If  you  have  got  to  have 
something  more  stylish,  and  new-fangled  than  the  old 
mair,  I'd  ruther  buy  you  a  philosopher.  They  are  easier- 
going  than  a  encyclopedia,  anyway." 

"  A  philosopher  ?  "  says  I  dreamily. 

"  Yes,  such  a  one  as  Tom  Gowdey  has  got." 

Says  I,  "  You  mean  a  velocipede  !  " 

uYes,  and  I'll  get  you  one  ruther  than  have  you  a 
ridin'  round  the  country  on  a  encyclopedia." 

His  tender  thoughtfulness  touched  my  heart,  and  I  ex 
plained  to  him  all  about  'em.  He  thought  it  was  some 
kind  of  a  bycicle.  And  he  brightened  up,  and  didn't  make 
no  objections  to  my  gettin'  one. 

Wall,  that  very  afternoon  he  went  to  Jonesville,  and 
come  home,  as  I  said,  all  rousted  up  about  bein'  a  senator. 
I  s'pose  Elburtus'es  bein'  there,  and  talkin'  so  much  on 
politics,  had  kinder  sot  him  to  thinkin'  on  it.  Anyway,  he 
come  home  from  Jonesville  perfectly  rampant  with  the 
idee  of  bein'  United-States  senator.  "He  said  he  had 
been  approached  on  the  subject." 

He  said  it  in  that  sort  of  a  haughty,  high-headed  way, 
such  as  men  will  sometimes  assume  when  they  think  they 
have  had  some  high  honors  heaped  onto  'em. 

Says  I,  "  Who  has  approached  you,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 


104 


SWEET  CICELY. 


JOSIAH  BEING   APPKO  ACHED. 


"Wall,"  he  said,  "it  might  be  a  foreign  minister,  and 
it  might  be  uncle  Nate  Gowdey."  He  thought  it  wouldn't 
be  best  to  tell  who  it  was.  "  But,"  says  he,  "  I  am  bound 


SWEET  CICELY.  105 

to  be  senator.  Josiah  Allen,  M.C.,  will  probable  be  wrote 
on  my  letters  before  another  fall.  I  am  bound  to  run." 

Says  I  coldly,  "  You  know  you  can't  run.  You  are  as 
lame  as  you  can  be.  You  have  got  the  rheumatiz  the 
worst  kind." 

Says  he,  "  I  mean  runnin'  with  political  legs  —'and  I  do 
want  to  be  a  senator,  Samantha.  I  want  to,  like  a  dog. 
I  want  the  money  there  is  in  it,  and  I  want  the  honor. 
You  know  they  have  elected  me  path-master,  but  I  hain't 
a  goin'  to  accept  it.  I  tell  you,  when  anybody  gets  into 
political  life,  ambition  rousts  up  in  'em :  path-master  don't 
satisfy  me.  I  want  to  be  senator :  I  want  to,  like  a  dog. 
And  I  don't  lay  out  to  tackle  the  job  as  Elburtus  did,  and 
act  too  good." 

"  No ! "  says  I  sternly.  "  There  hain't  no  danger  of 
your  bein'  too  good." 

"  No :  I  have  laid  my  plans,  and  laid  'em  careful.  The 
relation  on  your  side  was  too  willin',  and  too  clever.  And 
witnessin'  his  campaign  has  learnt  me  some  deep  lessons. 
I  watched  the  rocks  he  hit  aginst;  and  I  have  laid  my 
plans,  and  laid  'em  careful.  I  am  going  to  act  offish.  I 
feel  that  offishness  is  my  strong  holt  —  and  endearin'  my 
self  to  the  masses.  Educatin'  public  sentiment  up  to  lovin' 
me,  and  urgin'  me  not  to  be  so  offish,  and  to  obleege  'em  by 
takin'  a  office  —  them  is  my  2  strong  holts.  If  I  can  only 
hang  back,  and  act  onwillin',  and  get  the  masses  fierce  to 
elect  me — why,  I'm  made.  And  then,  I've  got  a  plan  in 
my  head." 

I  groaned,  in  spite  of  myself. 

"  I  have  got  a  plan  in  my  head,  that,  if  every  other  plan 
fails,  will  elect  me  in  spite  of  the  old  Harry." 


106  SWEET  CICELY. 

Oh !  how  that  oath  grated  against  my  nerve  !  And  how 
I  hung  back  from  this  idee  !  I  am  one  that  looks  ahead. 
And  I  says  in  firm  tones,  — 

"  You  never  would  get  the  nomination,  Josiah  Allen ! 
And  if  you  did,  you  never  would  be  elected." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  should ! "  says  he.  But  he  continued 
dreamily,  "There  would  have  to  be  considerable  wire- 
pullin'." 

"  Where  would  the  wires  be  ?  "  says  I  sternly.  "  And 
who  would  pull  'em  ?  " 

"  Oh,  most  anywhere  !  "  says  he,  lookin'  dreamily  up 
onto  the  kitchen  ceilin',  as  if  wires  wus  liable  to  be  let 
down  anywhere  through  the  plasterin'. 

Says  I,  "  Should  you  have  to  go  to  pullin'  wires  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  should,"  says  he. 

"Wall,"  says  I,  "you  may  as  wBll  make  up  your  mind 
in  the  first  ont,  that  I  hain't  goin'  to  give  my  consent 
to  have  you  go  into  any  thing  dangerous.  I  hain't  goin'  to 
have  you  break  your  neck,  at  your  age." 

Says  he,  "  I  don't  know  but  my  age  is  as  good  a  age  to 
break  my  neck  in  as  any  other.  I  never  sot  any  particu 
lar  age  to  break  my  neck  in." 

"  Make  fun  all  you  are  a  mind  to  of  a  anxious  Saman- 
tha,"  says  I,  "  but  I  will  never  give  my  consent  to  have 
you  plunge  into  such  dangerous  enterprizes.  And  talkin' 
about  pullin'  wires  sounds  dangerous:  it  sounds  like  a 
circus,  somehow;  and  how  would  you,  with  your  back, 
look  and  feel  performin'  like  a  circus  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand,  Samantha  !  the  wires  hain't 
pulled  in  that  way.  You  don't  pull  'em  with  your  hands, 
you  pull  'em  with  your  minds." 


SWEET  CICELY.  107 

"  Oh,  wall !  "  says  I,  brightenin'  up.  "  You  are  all  right 
in  that  case :  you  won't  pull  hard  enough  to  hurt  you 
any." 

I  knew  the  size  and  strength  of  his  mind,  jest  as  well  as 
if  I  had  took  it  out  of  his  head,  and  weighed  it  on  the  steel 
yards.  It  was  not  over  and  above  large.  I  knew  it ;  and 
he  knew  that  I  knew  it,  because  I  have  had  to  sometimes, 
in  the  cause  of  Right,  remind  him  of  it.  But  he  knows 
that  my  love  for  him  towers  up  like  a  dromedary,  and 
moves  off  through  life  as  stately  as  she  duz  —  the  drome 
dary.  Josiah  was  my  choice  out  of  a  world  full  of  men. 
I  love  Josiah  Allen.  But  to  resoom  and  continue  on. 

Josiah  says,  "  Which  side  had  I  better  go  on,  Saman- 
tha  ?  "  Says  he,  kinder  puttin'  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
lookin'  shrewdly  up  at  the  stove-pipe,  "  Would  you  run  as 
a  Stalwart,  or  a  Half-breed  ?  " 

Says  I,  "  I  guess  you  would  run  more  like  a  lame  hen 
than  a  Stalwart  or  a  Half-breed;  or,"  says  I,  "it  would 
depend  on  what  breeds  they  wuz.  If  they  wus  half  snails, 
and  half  Times  in  the  primers,  maybe  you  could  get  ahead 
of  'em." 

"I  should  think,  Samantha  Allen,  in  such  a  time  as  .this, 
you  would  act  like  a  rational  bein'.  I'll  be  hanged  if  I 
know  what  side  to  go  on  to  get  elected ! " 

Says  I,  "Josiah  Allen,  hain't  you  got  any  principle? 
Don't  you  know  what  side  you  are  on  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  s'pose  I  know  as  near  as  men  in  gineral. 
I'm  a  Democrat  in  times  of  peace.  But  it  is  human  nater, 
to  want  to  be  on  the  side  that  beats." 

I  sithed,  and  murmured  instinctively,  "George  Wash 
ington  ! " 


108  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  George  Granny !  "  says  lie. 

I  sithed  agin,  and  kep'  sithin'. 

Says  I,  "It  is  bad  enough,  Josiah  Allen,  to  have  you 
talk  about  runnin'  for  senator,  and  pullin'  wires,  and  et- 
cetery.  But,  oh,  oh !  my  agony  to  think  my  partner  is 
destitute  of  principle." 

"  I  have  got  as  much  as  most  political  men,  and  you'll 
find  it  out  so,  Samantha." 

My  groans  touched  his  heart  —  that  man  loves  me. 

"  I  am  goin'  to  work  as  they  all  do.  But  wimmen  hain't 
no  heads  for  business,  and  I  always  said  so.  They  don't 
look  out  for  the  profits  of  things,  as  men  do." 

I  didn't  say  nothiii'  only  my  sithes,  but  they  spoke 
volumes  to  any  one  who  understood  their  language.  But 
anon,  or  mebby  before,  —  I  hadn't  kep'  any  particular 
account  of  time,  but  I  think  it  wus  about  anon,  —  when 
another  thought  struck  me  so,  right  in  my  breast,  that  it 
most  knocked  me  over.  It  hanted  me  all  the  rest  of  that 
day :  and  all  that  night  I  lay  awake  and  worried,  and  I'd 
sithe,  and  sposen  the  case ;  and  then  I'd  turn  over,  and 
sposen  the  case,  and  sithe. 

Sposen  he  would  be  elected  —  I  didn't  really  think  he 
would,  but  I  couldn't  for  my  life  help  sposen.  Sposen 
he  would  have  to  go  to  Washington.  I  knew  strange 
things  took  place  in  politics.  Strange  men  run,  and  run 
fur:  some  on  'em  run  clear  to  Washington.  Mebby  he 
would.  Oh !  how  I  groaned  at  the  idee  ! 

I  thought  of  the  awfulness  of  that  place  as  I  had  heard 
it  described  upon  to  me  ;  and  then  I  thought  of  the  weak 
ness  of  men,  and  their  liability  to  be  led  astray.  I  thought 
of  the  powerful  blasts  of  temptation  that  blowed  through 


SWEET  CICELY. 


109 


them  broad  streets,  and  the  small  size  of  my  pardner,  and 
the  light  weight  of  his  bones  and  principles. 

And  I  felt,  if  things  wuz  as  they  had  been  depictered  to 
me,  he  would  (in  a  moral  sense)  be  lifted  right  up,  and 
blowed  away  —  bones,  principles,  and  all.  And  I  trembled. 

At  last  the  idee  knocked  so  firm  aginst  the  door  of  my 
heart,  that  I  had  to  let  it 
in.  That  I  must,  I  must 
go  to  Washington,  as  a 
forerunner  of  Josiah.  I 
must  go  ahead  of  him, 
and  look  round,  and  see 
if  my  Josiah  could  pass 
through  with  no  smell  of 
fire  on  his  overcoat  —  if 
there  wuz  any  possibility 
of  it.  If  there  wuz,  why, 
I  should  stand  still,  and 
let  things  take  their 
course.  But  if  my  worst 
apprehensions  wuz  real 
ized,  if  I  see  that  it  was  a 
place  where  my  pardner 

would  lose  all  the  modest  worth  and  winnin'  qualities 
that  first  endeared  him  to  me — why,  I  would  come  home, 
and  throw  all  my  powerful  influence  and  weight  into  the 
scales,  and  turn  'em  round. 

Of  course,  I  felt  that  I  should  have  to  make  some  pre 
text  about  goin' :  for  though  I  wus  as  innocent  as  a  babe 
of  wantin'  to  do  so,  I  felt  that  he  would  think  he  wus 
bein'  domineered  over  by  me.  Men  are  so  sort  o'  high- 


JOSIAH  BEING  BLOWN  AWAY. 


110  SWEET  CICELY. 

headed  and  haughty  about  some  things  !  But  I  felt  I  could 
make  a  pretext  of  George  Washington.  That  dear  old 
martyr  !  I  felt  truly  I  would  love  to  weep  upon  his  tomb. 

And  so  I  told  Josiah  the  next  mornin',  for  I  thought  I 
would  tackle  the  subject  at  once.  And  he  says,  — 

"  What  do  you  want  to  weep  on  his  tomb  for,  Samantha, 
at  this  late  day?" 

Says  I,  "  The  day  of  love  and  gratitude  never  fades  into 
night,  Josiah  Allen :  the  sun  of  gratitude  never  goes  down ; 
it  shines  on  that  tomb  to-day  jest  as  bright  as  it  did  in 
1800." 

"  Wall,  wall !  go  and  weep  on  it  if  you  want  to.  But 
I'll  bet  half  a  cent  that  you'll  cry  onto  the  ice-house,  as 
I've  heard  of  other  wimmen's  doin*.  Wimmen  don't  see 
into  things  as  men  do." 

"  You  needn't  worry,  Josiah  Allen.  I  shall  cry  at  the 
right  time,  and  in  the  right  place.  And  I  think  I  had 
better  start  soon  on  my  tower." 

I  always  was  one  to  tackle  hard  jobs  immejutly  and  to 
once,  so's  to  get  'em  offen'  my  mind. 

"  Wall,  I'd  like  to  know,"  says  he,  in  an  injured  tone, 
"  what  you  calculate  to  do  with  me  while  you  are  gone  ?  " 

«  Why,"  says  I,  "  I'll  have  the  girl  Ury  is  engaged  to, 
come  here  and  do  the  chores,  and  work  for  herself ;  they 
are  goin'  to  be  married  before  long :  and  I'll  give  her  some 
rolls,  and  let  her  spin  some  yarn  for  herself.  She'll  be 
glad  to  come." 

"  How  long  do  you  s'pose  you'll  be  gone  ?  She  hain't 
no  cook.  I'd  as  lives  eat  rolls,  as  to  eat  her  fried  cakes." 

"  Your  pardner  will  fry  up  2  pans  full  before  she  goes, 
Josiah ;  and  I  don't  s'pose  I'll  be  gone  over  four  days." 


SWEET  CICELY.  Ill 

"  Oh,  well !  then  I  guess  I  can  stand  it.  But  you  had 
better  make  some  mince-pies  ahead,  and  other  kinds  of 
pies,  and  some  fruit-cake,  and  cookies,  and  tarts,  and 
things :  it  is  always  best  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  in 
vittles." 

So  it  wus  agreed  on,  —  that  T  should  fill  two  cubbard 
shelves  full  of  provisions,  to  help  him  endure  my  absence. 

I  wus  some  in  hopes  that  he  might  give  up  the  idee  of 
bein'  United-States  senator,  and  I  might  have  rest  from 
my  tower ;  for  I  dreaded,  oh,  how  I  dreaded,  the  job ! 
But  as  day  by  day  passed,  he  grew  more  and  more  ram 
pant  with  the  idee.  He  talked  about  it  all  the  time 
daytimes ;  and  in  the  night  I  could  hear  him  murmur  to 
himself,  — 

"  Hon.  Josiah  Allen ! " 

And  once  I  see  it  in  his  account-book,  "  Old  Peedick 
debtor  to  two  sap-buckets  to  Hon.  Josiah  Allen." 

And  he  talked  sights,  and  sights,  about  what  he  wus 
goin'  to  do  when  he  got  to  Washington,  D.C.  —  what 
great  things  he  wus  goin'  to  do.  And  I  would  get  wore 
out,  and  say  to  him,  — 

"  Wall !  you  will  have  to  get  there  first." 

"  Oh !  you  needn't  worry.  I  can  get  there  easy  enough. 
I  s'pose  I  shall  have  to  work  hard  jest  as  they  all  do.  But 
as  I  told  you  before,  if  every  thing  else  fails,  I  have  got  a 
grand  plan  to  fall  back  on  —  sunthin'  new  and  uneek. 
Josiah  Allen  is  nobody's  fool,  and  the  nation  will  find  it 
out  so." 

Then,  oh,  how  I  urged  him  to  tell  his  plan  to  his  lovin' 
pardner  !  but  he  wouldn't  tell. 

But  hours  and  hours  would  he  spend,  a  telliii'  me  what 


112  SWEET  CICELY. 

great  things  he  wus  goin'  to  do  when  he  got  to  Washing 
ton,  t 

Says  he,  "  There  is  one  thing  about  it.  When  I  get 
to  be  United-States  senator,  uncle  Nate  Gowdey  shall  be 
promoted  to  some  high  and  responsible  place." 

"Without  thinkin'  whether  he  is  fit  for  it  or  not?" 
says  I. 

"  Yes,  mom,  without  thinkin'  a  .thing  about  it.  I  am 
bound  to  help  the  ones  that  help  me." 

" You  wouldn't  have  him  examined,"  says  I,  —  "wouldn't 
have  him  asked  no  questions  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  I'd  have  him  pass  a  examination  jest  as 
the  New- York  aldermen  do,  or  the  civil-service  men.  I'd 
say  to  him,  '  Be  you  uncle  Nate  Gowdey  ?  ' 

"'Yes.' 

" '  How  long  have  you  been  uncle  Nate  Gowdey? ' 

"  And  he'd  answer ;  and  I'd  say,  — 

" '  How  long  do  you  calculate  to  be  uncle  Nate  ? ' 

"  And  he'll  tell ;  and  then  I'll  say,  — 

"'Enough:  I  see  you  have  all  the  qualifications  for 
office.  You  are  admitted.'  That  is  what  I  would  do." 

I  groaned.  But  he  kep'  on  complacently,  "  I  am  goin' 
to  help  the  ones  that  elect  me,  sink  or  swim ;  and  I  calcu 
late  to  make  money  out  of  the  project,  —  money  and 
honor.  And  I  shall  do  a  big  work  there,  —  there  hain't 
no  doubt  of  it. 

"  Now,  there  is  political  economy.  I  shall  go  in  strong 
for  that.  I  shall  say  right  to  Congress,  the  first  speech  I 
make  to  it,  I  shall  say,  that  there  is  too  much  money  spent 
now  to  hire  votes  with ;  and  I  shall  prove  it  right  out, 
that  we  can  get  votes  cheaper  if  we  senators  all  join  in 


SWEET  CICELY.  113 

together,  and  put  our  feet  right  down  that  we  won't  pay 
only  jest  so  much  for  a  vote.  But  as  long  as  one  man  is 
willin'  to  pay  high,  why,  everybody  else  has  got  to  fol- 
ler  suit.  And  there  hain't  no  economy  in  it,  not  a  mite. 

"  Then,  there  is  the  canal  question.  I'll  make  a  thorough 
end  of  that.  There  is  one  reform  that  will  be  pushed 
right  through." 

"How  will  you  do  it?"  says  I. 

"  I  will  have  the  hull  canal  cleaned  out  from  one  end 
to  the  other." 

"  I  was  readin'  only  yesterday,"  says  I,  "  about  the  cor 
ruption  of  the  canal  question.  But  I  didn't  s'pose  it 
meant  that." 

"  That  is  because  you  hain't  a  man.  You  hain't  got  the 
mind  to  grasp  these  big  questions.  The  corruption  of  the 
canal  means  that  the  bottom  of  the  canal  is  all  covered 
with  dead  cats  and  things ;  and  it  ort  to  be  seen  to,  by 
men  that  is  capable  of  seein'  to  such  things.  It  ort  to  be 
cleaned  out.  And  I  am  the  man  that  has  got  the  mind 
for  it,"  says  he  proudly. 

"Then,  there  is  the  Star  Route.  Nothin'  but  foolish 
ness  from  beginnm'  to  end.  They  might  have  known 
they  couldn't  make  any  road  through  the  stars.  Why, 
the  very  Bible  is  agin  it.  The  ground  is  good  enough  for 
me,  and  for  any  other  solid  man.  It  is  some  visionary 
chap  that  begun  it  in  the  first  place.  Nothin'  but  dumb 
foolishness ;  and  so  uncle  Nate  Gowdey  said  it  was.  We 
got  to  talkin'  about  it  yesterday,  and  he  said  it  was  a  pity 
wimmin  couldn't  vote  on  it.  He  said  that  would  be  jest 
about  what  they  would  be  likely  to  vote  for. 

"  He  is  a  smart  old  feller,  uncle  Nate  is,  for  a  man  of  his 


114  SWEET  CICELY. 

age.     He  talked  awful  smart  about  wimmin's  votin'.     He 
said  any  man  was  a  fool  to  think  that  a  woman  would  ever 


JOSIAH'e   STAR  KOUTE. 


have  the  requisit  grasp  of  intellect,  and  the   knowledge 
of  public  affairs,  that  would  render  her  a  competent  voter. 


SWEET  CICELY.  115 

"  I  tell  you,  you  have  got  to  understand  things  in  order 
to  tackle  politicks.  Politicks  takes  deep  study. 

"  Now,  there  is  the  tariff  question,  and  the  revenue. 
I  shall  most  probable  favor  'em,  and  push  'em  right 
through." 

"  How  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Oh,  wall !  a  woman  most  probable  couldn't  under 
stand  it.  But  I  shall  push  'em  forward  all  I  can,  and  lift 
'em  up." 

"Where  to?"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  keep  a  askin',  and  a  naggin' !  That  is  what  wears 
out  us  public  men,  —  wimmin's  questionin'.  It  hain't  so 
much  the  public  duties  we  have  to  perform  that  ages  us, 
and  wears  us  out  before  our  time,  —  it  is  woman's  weak 
curiosity  on  public  topics,  that  her  mind  is  too  feeble  to 
grasp  holt  of.  It  is  wearin',"  says  he  haughtily. 

Says  I,  "  Specially  when  they  don't  know  what  to  an 
swer."  Says  I,  "  Josiah  Allen,  you  don't  know  this  min 
ute  what  tariff  means,  or  revenue." 

"Wall,  I  know  what  starvation  means,  and  I  know 
what  vittles  means,  and  I  know  I  am  as  hungry  as  a  bear." 

Instinctively  I  hung  on  the  teakettle.  And  as  Josiah 
see  me  pare  the  potatoes,  and  grind  the  coffee,  and  pound 
the  steak,  he  grew  very  pleasant  again  in  his  demeanor ; 
and  says  he,  — 

"  There  will  be  some  abuses  reformed  when  I  get  to 
Washington,  D.C. ;  and  you  and  the  nation  will  see  that 
there  will.  Now,  there  is  the  civil-service  law :  Uncle 
Nate  and  I  wus  a  talkin'  about  it  yesterday.  It  is  jest 
what  we  need.  Why,  as  uncle  Nate  said,  hired  men  hain't 
civil  at  all,  nor  hired  girls  either.  You  hire  'em  to  serve 


116  SWEET  CICELY. 

you,  and  to  serve  you  civil ;  and  they  are  jest  as  dumb 
uppish  and  impudent  as  they  can  be.  And  hotel-clerks  — 
now,  they  don't  know  what  civil-service  means." 

"  Why,  uncle  Nate  said  when  he  went  to  the  Ohio,  last 
fall,  he  stayed  over  night  to  Cleveland,  and  the  hotel-clerk 
sassed  him,  jest  because  he  wanted  to  blow  out  his  light : 
he  wanted  uncle  Nate  to  turn  it  off. 

"  And  uncle  Nate  jest  spoke  right  up,  smart  as  a  whip, 
and  said,  4  Old-fashioned  ways  was  good  enough  for  him : 
blows  wus  made  before  turners,  and  he  should  blow  it  out.' 

"And  the  hotel-clerk  sassed  him,  and  swore,  and  threat 
ened  to  make  him  leave." 

"  And  ruther  than  have  a  fuss,  uncle  Nate  said  he  turned 
it  out.  But  it  rankled,  uncle  Nate  says  it  did,  it  rankled 
deep.  And  he  says  he  wants  to  vote  for  that  special.  He 
says  he'd  love  to  make  that  clerk  eat  humble-pie. 

"  Uncle  Nate  is  a  sound  man :  his  head  is  level. 

"  And  good,  sound  platforms,  that  is  another  reform, 
uncle  Nate  said  we  needed  the  worst  kind,  and  he  hoped 
I  would  insist  on  it  when  I  got  to  be  senator.  He  said 
there  was  too  much  talk  about  'em  in  the  papers,  and  too 
little  done  about  'em.  Why,  Elam  Gowdey,  uncle  Nate's 
youngest  boy,  broke  down  the  platform  to  his  barn,  and 
went  right  down  through  it,  with  a  load  of  hay.  And 
nothin'  but  that  hay  saved  his  neck  from  bein'  broke.  It 
spilte  one  of  his  horses. 

"  Uncle  Nate  had  been  urgin'  him  to  fix  the  platform, 
or  build  a  new  one ;  but  he  was  slack.  But,  as  uncle 
Nate  says,  if  such  things  are  run  by  law,  they  will  have 
to  foe  done. 

"  And  then,  there  is  another  thing  uncle  Nate  and  I  was 


SWEET  CICELY. 


11T 


talkin'  about,"  says  he,  lookin'  very  amiable  at  me  as  I 
rolled  out  my  cream  biscuit  —  almost  spooney. 


UNCIVIL   SERVICE. 

"I  shall  jest  run  every  poor  Irishman  and  Chinaman 
out  of  the  country  that  I  can." 

"  What  has  the  Irishmen  done,  Josiah  Allen  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Oh  !  they  are  poor.  There  hain't  no  use  in  our  asso- 
ciatin'  with  the  poor." 


118  SWEET  CICELY. 

Says  I  dreamily,  "  Did  I  not  read  once,  of  One  who  re 
nounced  the  throne  of  the  universe  to  dwell  amongst  the 
poor?" 

"  Oh,  wall !  most  probable  they  wuzn't  Irish." 

"  And  what  has  the  Chinaman  done  ?  "says  I. 

44  Why,  they  are  heathens,  Samantha.  What  does  the 
United  States  want  with  heathens  anyway  ?  What  the 
country  needs  is  Methodists." 

"  Somewhere  did  I  not  once  hear  these  words,"  says  I 
musin'ly,  as  I  set  the  coffee-cups  on  the  table,  —  " 4  You 
shall  have  the  heathen  for  an  inheritance'  —  and  '  preach 
the  gospel  to  the  heathen  '  — and  '  we  who  were  sometime 
heathens,  but  have  received  light '  ?  Did  not  the  echo  of 
some  such  words  once  reach  my  mind  ?" 

44  Oh,  wall !  if  you  are  goin'  to  quote  readin',  why  can't 
you  quote  from  4The  World'?  you  can't  combine  Bible 
and  politics  worth  a  cent.  And  the  Chinaman  works 
too  cheap  —  are  too  industrious,  and  reasonable  in  their 
charges,  they  hain't  extravagant  —  and  they  are  too  dumb 
peacible,  dumb  'em ! " 

"Josiah  Allen!"  says  I  firmly,  44is  that  all  the  fault 
you  find  with  'em  ?  " 

4'  No,  it  hain't.  They  don't  want  to  vote  !  They  don't 
care  a  cent  about  bein'  path-master  or  President.  And  I 
say,  that  after  givin'  a  man  a  fair  trial  and  a  long  one,  if 
he  won't  try  to  buy  or  sell  a  vote,  it  is  a  sure  sign  that  he 
can't  asimulate  with  Americans,  and  be  one  with  'em; 
that  he  can't  never  be  mingled  in  with  'em  peacible.  And 
I'll  bet  that  I'll  start  the  Catholics  out  —  and  the  Jews. 
What  under  the  sun  is  the  use  of  havin'  anybody  here  in 
America  only  jest  Methodists?  That  is  the  only  right 


SWEET  CICELY.  119 

way.  And  if  I  have  my  way,  I'll  get  rid  of  'em,  —  China 
men,  Irishmen,  Catholics,  —  the  hull  caboodle  of  'em.  I'll 
jest  light  'em  out  of  the  country.  We  can  do  it  too. 
That  big  statute  in  New-York  Harbor  of  Liberty  Enlight- 
enin'  the  World,  will  jest  lift  her  torch  up  high,  and  light 
'em  out  of  the  country:  —  that  is  what  we  had  her  for." 

I  sithed  low,  and  says,  "  I  never  knew  that  wus  what 
she  wus  there  for.  I  s'posed  it  wus  a  gift  from  a  land 
that  helped  us  to  liberty  and  prosperity  when  we  needed 
'em  as  bad  as  the  Irishmen  and  Chinamen  do  to-day  ;  and 
I  s'posed  that  torch  that  wus  lit  for  us  by  others'  help, 
we  should  be  willin'  and  glad  to  have  it  shine  on  the  dark 
cross-roads  of  others." 

"  Wall,  it  hain't  meant  for  no  such  purpose :  it  is  to 
light  up  our  land  and  our  waters.  That's  what  she's  there 
for." 

I  sithed  agin,  a  sort  of  a  cold  sithe,  and  says,  — 

"I  don't  think  it  looks  very  well  for  us  New-Englanders 
a  sittin'  round  Plymouth  Rock,  to  be  a  condemnin'  any 
body  for  their  religeous  beliefs." 

"Wall,  there  hain't  no  need  of  whittlin'  out  a  stick,  and 
worshipin'  it,  as  the  Chinamen  do." 

"  How  are  you  goin'  to  help  'em  to  worship  the  true 
God  if  you  send  'em  out  of  the  country?  Is  it  for  the 
sake  of  humanity  you  drive  'em  out  ?  or  be  you,  like  the 
Isrealites  of  old,  a  worshipin'  the  golden  calf  of  selfishness, 
Josiah  Allen?" 

"I  hain't  never  worshiped  no  calf,  Samantha  Allen. 
That  would  be  the  last  thing  I  would  worship,  and  you 
know  it." 

(Josiah  wus  very  lame  on  his  left  leg  where  he  had 


120  SWEET  CICELY. 

been  kicked  b}^  a  yearlin'.  The  spot  wus  black  and  blue, 
but  healin'.) 

"  You  have  blanketed  that  calf  with  thick  patriotic 
excuses ;  but  I  fear,  Josiah  Allen,  that  the  calf  is  there. 

"Oh! "  says  I  dreamily,  "how  the  tread  of  them  calves 
has  moved  down  through  the  centuries !  If  every  calf 
should  amble  right  out,  marked  with  its  own  name  and 
the  name  of  its  owner,  what  a  sight,  what  a  sight  it  would 
be  !  On  one  calf,  right  after  its  owner's  name,  would  be 
branded,  '  Worldly  Honor  and  Fame.'  " 

Josiah  squirmed,  for  I  see  him,  but  tried  to  turn  the 
squirm  in'  into  a  sickly  smile ;  and  he  murmured  in  a 
meachin'  voice,  and  with  a  sheepish  smile,  — 

"  '  Hon.  Josiah  Allen.  Fame.'  That  wouldn't  look  so 
bad  on  a  likely  yearlin'  or  two-year  old." 

But  I  kep'  right  on.  "  On  another  would  be  marked, 
4  Wealth.'  Very  yeller  those  calves  would  be,  and  a  long, 
long  drove  of  'em. 

"On  another  would  be,  'Earthly  Love.'  Middlin'  good- 
lookin'  calves,  these,  and  sights  of  'em.  But  the  mantillys 
that  covered  'em  would  be  all  wet  and  wore  with  tears. 

"  '  Culture,'  '  Intellect,'  '  Refinement.'  These  calves 
would  march  right  along  by  the  side  of  '  Pride,'  c  Vanity,' 
'  Old  Creeds,'  '  Bigotry,'  '  Selfishness.'  The  last-named 
would  be  too  numerous  to  count  with  the  naked  eye,  and 
go  pushin'  aginst  each  other,  rushin'  right  through  meetin'- 
housen,  tearin'  and  actin'.  Why,"  says  I,  "the  ground 
trembles  under  the  tread  of  them  calves.  I  can  hear  'em 
whinner,"  says  I,  fillin'  up  the  coffee-pot. 

"  Calves  don't  whinner !  "  says  Josiah. 

Says  I,  "  I  speak  parabolickly  ; "  and  says  I,  in  a  very 


SWEET  CICELY. 


121 


blind  way,  "Parables  are  used  to  fit  the  truth  to  weak 
comprehensions." 

"  Wall ! "  says  he,  kinder  cross,  "  your  potatoes  are  a 
burnin'  down." 

I  turned  the  water  off,  and  mashed  'em  up,  with  plenty 
of  cream  and  butter;  and  them,  applied  to  his  stomach 
internally,  seemed  to  sooth  him,  —  them,  and  the  nice 


THE   GOLDEN  CALVES   OF   CHRISTIANS. 

tender  steak,  and  light  biscuit,  and  lemon  puddin'  and 
coffee,  rich  and  yellow  and  fragrant. 

He  never  said  a  word  more  about  politics  till  after  din 
ner.  But  on  risin'  up  from  the  table  he  told  me  he  had 
got  to  go  to  Jonesville  to  get  the  old  mare  shod.  And  I 
see  s&dly,  as  he  stood  to  the  lookin'-glass  combin'  out  his 
few  hairs,  how  every  by-path  his  mind  sot  out  on  led  up 
gradually  to  Washington,  D.C.  For  as  he  stood  there, 
and  spoke  of  the  mare's  feet,  he  says,  — 

"The  mare  is  good  enough  for  Jonesville,  Samantha. 
But  when  we  get  to  Washington,  we  want  sunthin'  gayer, 
more  stylish,  to  ride  on.  I  calculate,"  says  he,  pullin'  up 


122  SWEET  CICELY. 

his  collar,  and  pullin'  down  his  vest,  —  "I  lay  out  to  dress 
gay,  and  act  gay.  I  calculate  to  make  a  show  for  once  in 
my  life,  and  put  on  style.  One  thing  I  am  bound  on,  —  I 
shall  drive  tantrum." 

"  How  ?  "  says  I  sternly. 

"JiVhy,  I  shall  buy  another  mare,  most  probable  some 
gay-colored  one,  and  hitch  it  before  the  old  white  mare, 
and  drive  tantrum.  You  know,  it  is  all  the  style.  Meb- 
by,"  says  he  dreamily,  "I  shall  ride  the  drag.  I  s'pose 


JOS1AI1  D1UVING   TANTBUM. 


that  is  fashionable.  But  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  should  think 
it  would  be  easy  ridin'  unless  you  had  the  teeth  down. 
Dog-carts  are  stylish,  I  hear  ;  but  our  dog  is  so  dumb  lazy, 
you  couldn't  get  him  to  go  out  of  a  walk.  But  tantrum  I 
will  drive." 

I  groaned,  and  says,  "  Yes,  I  hain't  no  doubt  that  any 
body  that   sees  you  at  Washington,  will  see   tantrums, 
strange  tantrums.     But  you  hain't  there  yet." 
"  No,  but  I  most  probable  shall  be  ere  long." 
He  had  actually  begun  to  talk   in   high-flown,  blank 
verse  sort  of  a  way.     "  Ere  long ! "    that  wus  somethin' 
new  for  Josiah  Allen. 


SWEET  CICELY.  123 

Alas !  every  thought  of  his  heart  wus  tuned  to  that 
one  political  key.  I  mentioned  to  him  that  "  the  bobbin 
to  my  sewin'-machine  was  broke,  and  asked  him  to  get  a 
new  one  of  the  agent  at  Jonesville." 

u  Yes,"  says  he  benignantly,  "  I  will  tend  to  your  ma 
chine  ;  and  speakin'  of  machines,  that  makes  me  think 
of  another  thing  uncle  Nate  and  I  wus  talkin'  about." 

"  Machine  politics,  I  sha'n't  favor  'em.  What  under 
the  sun  do  they  want  machines  to  make  politics  with, 
when  there  is  plenty  of  men  willin',  and  more  than  willin', 
to  make  'em  ?  And  it  is  as  expensive  agin.  Machines 
cost  so  much.  I  tell  you,  they  cost  tarnation  high." 

"  I  can  understand  you  without  swearin',  Josiah  Allen." 

u  I  hain't  a  swearin' :  '  tarnation '  hain't  swearin',  nor 
never  wuz.  I  shall  use  that  word  most  likely  in  Wash 
ington,  D.C." 

"  Wall,"  says  I  coldly,  "  there  will  have  to  be  some  tea 
and  sugar  got." 

He  did  not  demur.  But,  oh  !  how  I  see  that  immovible 
sotness  of  his  mind  ! 

"  Yes,  I  will  get  some.  But  won't  it  be  handy,  Saman- 
tha,  to  have  free  trade  ?  I  shall  go  for  that  strong.  Why, 
I  can  tell  you,  it  will  come  handy  along  in  the  winter 
when  the  hens  don't  lay,  and  we  don't  make  butter  to 
turn  off — it  will  come  dretful  handy  to  jest  hitch  up  the 
mare,  and  go  to  the  store,  and  come  home  with  a  lot  of 
groceries  of  all  kinds,  and  some  fresh  meat  mebby.  And 
mebby  some  neckties  of  different  colors." 

"  Who  would  pay  for  'em  ?  "  says  I  in  a  stern  tone ;  for 
I  didn't  somehow  like  the  idee. 

"  Why,  the  Government,  of  course." 


124  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  shook  my  head  2  or  3  times  back  and  forth.  I 
couldn't  seem  to  get  the  right  sense  of  it.  "  I  can't  un 
derstand  it,  Josiah.  We  heard  a  good  deal  about  free 
trade,  but  I  can't  believe  that  is  it." 

"  Wall,  it  is,  jest  that.  Free  trade  is  one  of  the  pre- 
requisits  of  a  senator.  Why,  what  would  a  man  want  to 
be  a  senator  for,  if  they  couldn't  make  by  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  love  your  country,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do :  but  I  don't  love  her  so  well  as  I  do  myself ; 
it  hain't  nateral  I  should." 

"  Surely  I  read  long  ago,  —  was  it  in  the  English 
Reader  ?  "  says  I  dreamily,  "  or  where  was  it  ?  But  surely 
I  have  heard  of  such  things  as  patriotism  and  honor,  love 
of  country,  and  love  of  the  right." 

"  Wall,  I  calculate  I  love  my  country  jest  as  well  as  the 
next  man ;  and,"  says  he  firmly,  "  I  calculate  I  can  make 
jest  as  much  out  of  her,  give  me  a  chance.  Why,  I  cal 
culate  to  do  jest  as  they  all  do.  What  is  the  use  of 
startin'  up,  and  bein'  one  by  yourself?" 

Says  I,  "That  is  what  Pilate  thought,  Josiah  Allen." 
Says  I,  "  The  majority  hain't  always  right."  Says  I  firmly, 
"  They  hardly  ever  are." 

"  Now,  that  is  a  regular  woman's  idee,"  says  he,  goin' 
into  the  bedroom  for  a  clean  shirt.  And  as  he  opened  the 
bureau-draw,  he  says,  — 

"  Another  thing  I  shall  go  for,  is  abolishin'  lots  of  the 
bureaus.  Why,  what  is  the  use  of  any  man  havin'  more 
than  one  bureau?  It  is  nothin'  but  nonsense  clutterin' 
up  the  house  with  so  many  bureaus. 

"When  wimmen  get  to  votin',"  says  he  sarcastickly, 
"  I'll  bet  their  first  move  will  be  to  get  'em  back  agin.  I'll 


SWEET  CICELY.  125 

bet  there  hain't  a  women  in  the  land,  but  what  would  love 
to  have  20  bureaus  that  they  could  run  to." 

"  Then,  you  think  wimmen  will  vote,  do  you,  Josiah 
Allen?" 

"  I  think,"  says  he  firmly,  "  that  it  will  be  a  wretched 
day  for  the  nation  if  she  does.  Wimmen  is  good  in  their 
places,"  says  he,  as  he  come  to  me  to  button  up  his  shirt 
sleeves,  and  tie  his  cravat. 

"  They  are  good  in  their  places.  But  they  can't  have, 
it  hain't  in  'em  to  have,  the  calm  grasp  of  mind,  the  deep 
outlook  into  the  future,  'that  men  have.  They  can't 
weigh  things  in  the  firm,  careful  balences  of  right  and 
wrong,  and  have  that  deep,  masterly  knowledge  of  national 
affairs  that  we  men  have.  They  hain't  got  the  hard  horse 
sense  that  anybody  has  got  to  have  in  order  to  make 
money  out  of  the  nation.  They  would  have  some  senti 
mental  subjects  up  of  right  or  wrong  to  spend  their  energies 
and  their  hearts  on.  Look  at  Cicely,  now.  She  means 
well.  But  what  would  she  do?  What  would  she  make 
out  of  votin'?  Not  a  cent.  And  she  never  would  think 
of  passin'  laws  for  her  own  personal  comfort,  either. 
Now,  there  is  the  subsidy  bill.  I'll  see  that  through  if  I 
sweat  for  it. 

"  Why,  it  would  be  worth  more  than  a  dollar-bill  to 
me  lots  of  times  to  make  folks  subside.  Preachers,  now, 
when  they  get  to  goin'  beyond  the  20ethly.  No  preacher 
has  any  right  to  go  to  wanderin'  round  up  beyond  them 
figures  in  dog-days.  And  if  they  could  be  made  to  subside 
when  they  had  gone  fur  enough,  why,  it  would  be  a  perfect 
boon  to  Jonesville  and  the  nation. 

"And    se win' -machine   agents  —  and  —  and   wimmen, 


126 


SWEET  CICELY. 


when  they  get  all  excited  a  scoldin',  or  talkin'  about 
bonnets,  and  things.  Why !  if  a  man  could  jest  lift  up 
his  hand,  and  say  c  Subside ! '  and  then  see  'em  subside 
— why,  I  had  ruther  see  it  than  a  circus  any  day." 


A  WOMAN'S  PLACE. 


I  looked  at  him  keenly,  and  says  I,  — 
"  I  wish  such  a  bill  had  even  now  passed  ;  that  is,  if 
wimmeii  could  receive  any  benefit  from  it." 


SWEET  CICELY.  127 

"Wall,  you'll  see  it  after  I  get  to  Washington,  D.C., 
most  probable.  I  calculate  to  jest  straighten  out  things 
there,  and  get  public  affairs  in  a  good  runnin'  order.  The 
nation  needs  me." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  wore  out,  "  it  can  have  you,  as  fur  as  I 
am  concerned." 

And  I  wus  so  completely  fagged  out,  that  I  turned  the 
subject  completely  round  (as  I  s'posed)  by  askin'  him  if 
he  laid  out  to  sell  our  apples  this  year  where  he  did  last. 
The  man's  wife  had  wrote  to  me  ahead,  and  wanted  to 
know,  for  they  had  bought  a  new  dryin'- machine,  and 
wanted  to  make  sure  of  apples  ahead. 

"  Wall,"  says  Josiah,  drawin'  on  his  overshoes,  "  I  shall 
probable  have  to  use  the  apples  this  fall  to  buy  votes 
with." 

"  To  buy  votes  ?  "  says  I,  in  accents  of  horrow. 

"  Yes.  I  wouldn't  tell  it  out  of  the  family.  But  you 
are  all  in  the  family,  you  know,  and  so  I'll  tell  you.  I 
sha'n't  have  to  buy  near  so  many  votes  on  account  of  my 
plan ;  but  I  shall  have  to  buy  some,  of  course.  You 
know,  they  all  do ;  and  I  sha'n't  stand  no  chance  at  all  if 
I  don't." 

My  groans  was  fearful  that  I  groaned  at  this  ;  but  truly, 
worse  was  to  come.  He  looked  kinder  pitiful  at  me  (he 
loves  me).  But  yet  his  love  did  not  soften  the  firm  re 
solve  that  wus  spread  thick  over  his  linement  as  he  went 
on,  — 

"  I  lay  out  to  get  lots  of  votes  with  my  green  apples," 
says  he  dreamily.  "  It  seems  as  if  I  ought  to  get  a  vote 
for  a  bushel  of  apples ;  but  there  is  so  much  iniquity  and 
cheatin'  a  goin'  on  now  in  politics,  that  I  may  have  to  give 


128 


SWEET  CICELY. 


a  bushel  and  a  half,  or  two  bushels:  and  then,  I  shall 
make  up  a  lot  of  the  smaller  ones  into  hard  cider,  and 
use  'em  to  —  to  advance  the  interests  of  myself  and  the 
nation  in  that  way. 

"There  is  hull  loads  of  folks  uncle  Nate  says  he  can 
bring  to  vote  for  me,  by  the  judicious  use  of  —  wall,  it 
hain't  likely  you  will  approve  of  it ;  but  I  say,  stimulants 


OUIi   LAW-MAKEKS. 


are  necessary  in  medicine,  and  any  doctor  will  tell  you  so 
—  hard  cider  and  beer  and  whiskey,  and  so  4th." 

I  riz  right  up,  and  grasped  holt  of  his  arm,  and  says  in 
stern,  avengin'  tones,  — 

"Josiah  Allen,  will  you  go  right  against  God's  com 
mands,  and  put  the  cup  to  your  neighbor's  lips,  for  your 
own  gain?  Do  you  expect,  if  you  do,  that  you  can  es 
cape  Heaven's  avengin'  wrath  ?  " 

"  They  hain't  my  neighbors  :  I  never  neighbored  with 
'em." 


SWEET  CICELY.  129 

Says  I  sternly,  "If  you  commit  this  sin,  you  will  be 
held  accountable  ;  and  it  seems  to  me  as  if  you  can  never 
be  forgiven." 

"Dumb  it  all,  Samantha,  if  everybody  else  does  so, 
where  will  I  get  my  votes?" 

"  Go  without  'em,  Josiah  Allen ;  go  down  to  poverty, 
or  the  tomb,  but  never  commit  this  sin.  'Cursed  is  he 
that  putteth  the  cup  to  his  neighbor's  lips.' " 

"  They  hain't  my  neighbors,  and  it  probable  hain't  no 
cup  that  they  will  drink  out  of:  they  will  drink  out  of 
gobblers  "  (sometimes  when  Josiah  gets  excited,  he  calls 
goblets,  gobblers).  But  I  wus  too  wrought  up  and  by 
the  side  of  myself  to  notice  it. 

Says  I,  "To  think  a  human  bein',  to  say  nothin'  of  a 
perfessor,  would  go  to  work  deliberate  to  get  a  man  into 
a  state  that  is  jest  as  likely  as  not  to  end  in  a  murder, 
or  any  crime,  for  gain  to  himself."  Says  I,  "  Think  of  the 
different  crimes  you  commit  by  that  one  act,  Josiah  Allen. 
You  make  a  man  a  fool,  and  in  that  way  put  yourself 
down  on  a  level  with  disease,  deformity,  and  hereditary 
sin.  You  steal  his  reason  away.  You  are  a  thief  of  the 
deepest  dye ;  for  you  steal  then,  from  the  man  you  have 
stole  from  —  steal  the  first  rights  of  his  manhood,  his 
honor,  his  patriotism,  his  duty  to  God  and  man.  You  are 
a  thief  of  the  Government  —  thief  of  God,  and  right. 

"  Then,  you  make  this  man  liable  to  commit  any  crime  : 
so,  if  he  murders,  you  are  a  murderer ;  if  he  commits 
suicide,  your  guilty  soul  shall  cower  in  the  presence  of 
Him  who  said,  '  No  self-murderer  shall  inherit  eternal 
life.'  It  is  your  own  doom  you  shall  read  in  them  dread 
ful  words." 


130  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  Good  landy,  Samantha !  do  you  want  to  scare  me  to 
death  ? "  and  Josiah  quailed  and  shook,  and  shook  and 
quailed. 

"  I  am  only  tellin'  you  the  truth,  Josiah  Allen  ;  and  I 
should  think  it  would  scare  anybody  to  death." 

"  If  I  don't  do  it,  I  shall  appear  like  a  fool :  I  shall  be 
one  by  myself." 

Oh,  how  Josiah  duz  want  to  be  fashionable ! 

"  No,  you  won't,  Josiah  Allen  —  no,  you  won't.  If  you 
try  to  do  right,  try  to  do  God's  will,  you  have  His  armies 
to  surround  you  with  a  unseen  wall  of  strength." 

"  Why,  I  hain't  seen  you  look  so  sort  o'  skairful  and  riz 
up,  for  years,  Samantha." 

"I  hain't  felt  so.  To  think  of  the  brink  you  wuz  a 
stan din'  on,  and  jest  a  fallin'  off  of." 

Josiah  looked  quite  bad.  And  he  put  his  hand  on  his 
side,  and  says,  "  My  heart  beats  as  if  it  wuz  a  tryin'  to  get 
out  and  walk  round  the  room.  I  do  believe  I  have  got 
population  of  the  heart." 

Says  I,  in  a  sarcasticker  tone  than  I  had  used,  — 

"  That  is  a  disease  that  is  very  common  amongst  men, 
very  common,  though  they  hain't  over  and  above  willin' 
to  own  up  to  it.  Too  much  population  of  the  heart  has 
ailed  many  a  man  before  now,  and  woman  too,"  says  I  in 
reasonable  axents.  "  But  you  mean  palpitation." 

"  Wall,  I  said  so,  didn't  I  ?  And  it  is  jest  your  skairful 
talk  that  has  done  it." 

"Wall,  if  I  thought  I  could  convince  men  as  I  have 
you,  I  would  foller  the  business  stiddy,  of  skairin'  folks, 
and  think  I  wuz  doin'  my  duty."  Says  I,  my  emotions  a 
roustin'  up  agin,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  131 

"  I  should  call  it  a  good  deal  more  honorable  in  you  to 
get  drunk  yourself;  and  I  should  think  more  of  you,  if  I 
see  you  a  reelin'  round  yourself,  than  to  see  you  make 
other  folks  reel.  I  should  think  it  was  your  own  reel, 
and  you  had  more  right  to  it  than  to  anybody  else's. 

"  Oh !  to  think  I  should  have  lived  to  see  the  hour,  to 
have  my  companion  in  danger  of  goin'  aginst  the  Scripter 
—  ready  to  steal,  or  be  stole,  or  knock  down,  or  any  thing, 
to  buy  votes,  or  sell  'em  ! " 

"  Wall,  dumb  it  all,  do  you  want  me  to  appear  as  awk 
ward  as  a  fool?  I  have  told  you  more  than  a  dozen  times 
I  have  got  to  do  as  the  rest  do,  if  I  want  to  make  any  show 
at  all  in  politics." 

I  said  no  more :  but  I  riz  right  up,  and  walked  out  of 
the  room,  with  my  head  right  up  in  the  air,  and  the  strings 
of  my  head-dress  a  floatin'  out  behind  me ;  and  I'll  bet 
there  wus  indignation  in  the  float  of  them  strings,  and 
heart-ache,  and  agony,  and  —  and  every  thing. 

I  thought  I  had  convinced  him,  and  hadn't.  I  felt  as 
if  I  must  sink.  You  know,  that  is  all  a  woman  can  do  — 
to  sink.  She  can't  do  any  thing  else  in  a  helpful  way 
when  her  beloved  companion  hangs  over  political  abysses. 
She  can't  reach  out  her  lovin'  hand,  and  help  stiddy  him  : 
she  can't  do  nothin'  only  jest  sink.  And  what  made  it 
more  curious,  these  despairin'  thoughts  come  to  me  as  I 
stood  by  the  sink,  washin'  my  dinner-dishes.  But  anon 
(I  know  it  wus  jest  anon,  for  the  water  wus  bilein'  hot 
when  I  turned  it  out  of  the  kettle,  and  it  scalded  my 
hands,  onbeknown  to  me,  as  I  washed  out  my  sass-plates) 
this  thought  gripped  holt  of  me,  right  in  front  of  the 
sink,  — 


132  SWEET  CICELY. 

"Josiah  Allen's  wife,  you  must  not  sink.  You  must 
keep  up.  If  you  have  no  power  to  help  your  pardner  to 
patriotism  and  honor,  you  can,  if  your  worst  fears  are  real 
ized,  try  to  keep  him  to  home.  For  if  his  acts  and  words 
are  like  these  in  Jonesville,  what  will  they  be  in  Wash 
ington,  D.C.,  if  that  place  is  all  it  has  been  depictered 
to  you  ?  Hold  up,  Samantha !  Be  firm,  Josiah  Allen's 
wife  !  John  Rogers  !  The  nine  !  One  at  the  breast !  " 

So  at  last,  by  these  almost  convulsive  efforts  at  calmness, 
I  grew  more  calmer  and  composeder.  Josiah  had  hitched 
up  and  gone. 

And  he  come  home  clever,  and  all  excited  with  a  new 
thing. 

They  are  buildin'  a  new  court-house  at  Jonesville.  It 
is  most  done,  and  it  seemed  they  got  into  a  dispute  that 
day  about  the  cupelow/  They  wanted  to  have  the  figger 
of  Liberty  sculped  out  on  it ;  and  they  had  got  the  man 
there  all  ready,  and  he  had  begun  to  sculp  her  as  a  wo 
man, —  the  goddess  of  Liberty,  he  called  her.  But  at  the 
last  minute  a  dispute  had  rosen :  some  of  the  leadin'  minds 
of  Jonesville,  uncle  Nate  Gowdey  amongst  'em,  insisted 
on  it  that  Liberty  wuzn't  a  woman,  he  wuz  a  man.  And 
they  wanted  him  depictered  as  a  man,  with  whiskers  and 
pantaloons  and  a  standin'  collar,  and  boots  and  spurs  — 
Josiah  Allen  wus  the  one  that  wanted  the  spurs. 

He  said  the  dispute  waxed  furious;  and  he  says  to 
'em,  — 

"Leave  it  to  Samantha:  she'll  know  all  about  it." 

And  so  it  was  agreed  on  that  they'd  leave  it  to  me. 
And  he  drove  the  old  mare  home,  almost  beyond  her 
strength,  he  wus  so  anxious  to  have  it  settled. 


SWEET  CICELY.  133 

I  wus  jest  makin'  some  cream  biscuit  for  supper  as  he 
come  iii,  and  asked  me  about  it ;  and  a  minute  is  a  minute 
in  makin'  warm  biscuit.  You  want  to  make  'em  quick, 
and  bake  'em  quick.  My  mind  wus  fairly  held  onto  that 
dough  —  and  needed  on  it;  but  instinctively  I  told  him 
he  wus  in  the  right  out.  Liberty  here  in  the  United, 
States  wuz  a  man,  and,  in  order  to  be  consistent,  ort  to 
be  depictered  with  whiskers  and  overcoat  and  a  standin' 
collar.  • 

"  And  spurs  !  "  says  Josiah. 

"  Wall,"  I  told  him,  "  I  wouldn't  be  particular  about 
the  spurs."  I  said,  "Instead  of  the  spurs  on  his  boots, 
he  might  be  depictered  as  settin'  his  boot-heel  onto  the 
respectful  petition  of  fifty  thousand  wimmen,  who  had 
ventured  to  ask  him  for  a  little  mite  of  what  he  wus 
s'posed  to  have  quantities  of — Freedom. 

"  Or,"  says  I,  "  he  might  be  depictered  as  settin'  on  a 
judgment-seat,  and  wavin'  off  into  prison  an  intelligent 
Christian  woman,  who  had  spent  her  whole  noble,  useful 
life  in  studyin'  the  laws  of  our  nation,  for  darin'  to  think 
she,  had  as  much  right  under  our  Constitution,  as  a  low, 
totally  ignorant  coot  who  would  most  likely  think  the 
franchise  wus  some  sort  of  a  meat-stew." 

Says  I,  "  That  will  give  Liberty  jest  as  imperious  and 
showy  a  look  as  spurs  would,  and  be  fur  more  historick 
and  symbolical." 

Wall,  he  said  he  would  mention  it  to  'em  ;  and  says  he, 
with  a  contented  look,  — 

"  I  told  uncle  Nate  I  knew  I  wus  right.  I  knew  Liberty 
wus  a  man." 

Wall,  I  didn't  say  no  more  :  and  I  got  him  as  good  a 


134 


SWEET  CICELY. 


supper  as  the  house  afforded,  and  kep'  still  as  death  on 
politics ;  fur'  I  could  not  help  havin'  some  hopes  that  he 
might  get  sick  of  the  idee  of  public  life.  And  I  kep'  him 

down  close  all  that  evenin'  to  re 
ligion  and  the  weather. 

But,  alas  !  my  hopes  wus  doomed 
to  fade  away.  And,  as  days  passed 
by,  I  see  the  thought  of  bein'  a 
senator  wus  ever  before  him.  The 
cares  and  burdens  of  political  life 
seemed  to  be  a  loomin'  up  in  front 
of  him,  and  in  a  quiet  way  he 
seemed  to  be  fittin'  himself  for  the 
duties  of  his  position. 

He  come  in  one  day  with  Solo 
mon  Cyphers'ses  shovel,  and  I 
asked  him  "  what  it  wuz  ?  " 

And  he  said  "  it  wus  the  spoils 
of  office." 

And  I  says,  "It  is  no  such 
thing :  it  is  Solomon  Cypher'ses 
shovel." 

"Wall,"  says  he,  "I  found  it  out 
by  the  fence.  Solomon  has  gone 
over  to  the  other  party.  I  am 
a  Democrat,  and  this  is  party 
spoils.  I  am  goin'  to  keep  this  as  one  of  the  spoils  of 
office." 

Says  I  firmly,  "  You  won't  keep  it !  " 
"  Why,"  says  he,  "  if  I  am  goin'  to  enter  political  life,  I 
must  begin  to  practise  sometime.     I  must  begin  to  do  as 


JONESVILLE   COURT 
HOUSE. 


SWEET  CICELY.  135 

they  all  do.  And  it  is  a  crackin'  good  shovel  too,"  says 
he  pensively. 

Says  I,  "You  are  goin'  to  carry  that  shovel  right 
straight  home,  Josiah  Allen  !  " 

And  I  made  him. 

The  idee. 

But  I  see  in  this  and  in  many  kindred  things,  that  he 
wuz  a  dwellin'  on  this  thought  of  political  life  —  its  hon 
ors  and  emollients.  And  often,  and  in  dark  hints,  he 
would  speak  of  his  Plan.  If  every  other  means  failed,  if 
he  couldn't  spare  the  money  to  buy  enough/ votes,  how  his 
plan  wus  goin'  to  be  the  makin'  of  him. 

And  I  overheard  him  tellin'  the  babe  once,  as  he  wus 
rockin'  her  to  sleep  in  the  kitchen,  "  how  her  grandpa  had 
got  up  somethin'  that  no  other  babe's  grandpa  had  ever 
thought  of,  and  how  she  would  probable  see  him  in  the 
White  House  ere  long." 

I  wus  makin'  nut-cakes  in  the  buttery ;  and  I  shuddered 
so  at  these  words,  that  I  got  in  most  as  much  agin  lemon 
as  I  wanted  in  'em.  I  wus  a  droppin'  it  into  a  spoon,  and 
it  run  over,  I  wus  that  shook  at  the  thought  of  his  plan. 

I  had  known  his  plans  in  the  past,  and  had  hefted  'em. 
Ariel  I  truly  felt  that  his  plans  wus  liable  any  time  to  be 
the  death  of  him,  and  the  ruination. 

But  he  wouldn't  tell ! 

But  kep'  his  mind  immovibly  sot,  as  I  could  see.  And 
the  very  day  of  the  shovel  episode,  along  towards  night 
he  rousted  out  of  a  brown  study,  —  a  sort  of  a  dark-brown 
study,  —  and  says  he,  — 

"  Yes,  I  shall  make  out  enough  votes  if  we  have  a  judi 
cious  committee." 


136  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  A  lyin'  one,  do  you  mean  ?  "  says  I  coldly.  But  not 
surprized.  For  truly,  my  mind  had  been  so  strained  and 
racked  that  I  don't  know  as  it  would  have  surprized  me  if 
Josiah  Allen  had  riz  up,  and  knocked  me  down. 

"Wall,  in  politics,  you  have  to  add  a  few  orts  some 
times." 

I  sithed,  not  a  wonderin'  sithe,  but  a  despairin'  one ; 
and  he  went  on,  — 

"  I  know  where  I  shall  get  a  hull  lot  of  votes,  anyway." 

"  Where  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,  out  to  that  nigger  settlement  jest  the  other  side 
of  Jones ville." 

"  How  do  you  know  they'll  vote  for  you  ?  "  says  I. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  'em  vote  aginst  me ! "  says  he,  in  a 
skairful  way. 

"Would  you  use  intimidation,  Josiah  Allen?" 

"  Why,  uncle  Nate  Gowdey  and  I,  and  a  few  others  who 
love  quiet,  and  love  to  see  folks  do  as  they  ort  to,  lay  out 
to  take  some  shot-guns  and  make  them  niggers  vote  right ; 
make  'em  vote  for  me  ;  shoot  'em  right  down  if  they  don't. 
We  have  got  the  campaign  all  planned  out." 

"  Josiah  Allen,"  says  I,  "  if  you  have  no  fear  of  Heaven, 
have  you  no  fear  of  the  Government?  Do  you  want  to 
be  hung,  and  see  your  widow  a  breakin'  her  heart  over 
your  gallowses  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  shouldn't  get  hung.  The  Government  wouldn't 
do  nothin'.  The  Government  feels  jest  as  I  do,  —  that  it 
would  be  wrong  to  stir  up  old  bitternesses,  and  race  dif 
ferences.  The  bloody  shirt  has  been  washed,  and  ironed 
out ;  and  it  wouldn't  be  right  to  dirty  it  up  agin.  The 
colored  race  is  now  at  peace ;  and  if  they  will  only  do 


SWEET  CICELY. 


137 


right,  do  jest  as  the  white  men  wants  'em  to,  Government 
won't  never  interfere  with  'em." 

I  groaned,  and  couldn't  help  it ;  and  he  says,  — 

"  Why,  hang  it  all,  Samantha,  if  I  make  any  show  at  all 
in  public  life,  I  have  got  to  begin  to  practise  sometime." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  bring  me  in  a  pail  of  water."  But  as 
he  went  out  after  it,  I  murmured  sternly  to  myself,  — 

"  Oh !  wus  there  ever  a  forerunner  more  needed  to 
run  ?  "  and  my  soul  answered,  "  Never  !  never  ! " 


MAKING   THEM   DO    KIGIIT. 


So  with  sithes  that  could  hardly  be  sithed,  so  big  and 
hefty  wuz  they,  I  commenced  to  make  preparations  for 
embarkin'  on  my  tower.  And  no  martyr  that  ever  sot 
down  on  a  hot  gridiron  wus  animated  by  a  more  warm 
and  martyrous  feelin'  of  self-sacrifice.  Yes,  I  truly  felt, 
that  if  there  wus  dangers  to  be  faced,  and  daggers  run 
through  pardners,  I  felt  I  would  ruther  they  would  pierce 
my  own  spare-ribs  than  Josiah's.  (I  say  spare-ribs  for 
oritory  —  my  ribs  are  not  spare,  fur  from  it.) 

I  didn't  really  believe,  if  he  run,  he  would  run  clear  to 
Washington.  And  yet,  when  my  mind  roamed  on  some 


138  SWEET  CICELY. 

public  men,  and  how  fur  they  run,  I  would  groan,  and 
hurry  up  my  preparations. 

I  knew  my  tower  must  be  but  a  short  one,  for  sugarin'- 
time  wus  approachin'  with  rapid  strides,  and  Samantha 
must  be  at  the  helium.  But  I  also  knew,  that  with  a 
determined  mind,  and  a  willin'  heart,  great  things  could 
be  accomplished  speedily ;  so  I  commenced  makin'  prepa 
rations,  and  layin'  on  plans. 

As  become  a  woman  of  my  cast-iron  principles,  I  fixed 
up  mostly  on  the  inside  of  my  head  instead  of  the  outside. 
I  studied  the  map  of  the  United  States.  I  done  several 
sums  on  the  slate,  to  harden  my  mind,  and  help  me  grasp 
great  facts,  and  meet  difficulties  bravely.  I  read  Gass'es 
"  Journal,"  —  how  he  rode  up  our  great  rivers  on  a  peri- 
oger,  and  shot  bears.  Expectin',  as  I  did,  to  see  trouble,  I 
read  over  agin  that  book  that  has  been  my  stay  in  so 
many  hard-fit  battle-fields  of  principle,  —  Fox'es  "  Book  of 
Martyrs." 

I  studied  G.  Washington's  picture  on  the  parlor-wall, 
to  get  kinder  stirred  up  in  my  mind  about  him,  so's  to 
realize  to  the  full  my  privileges  as  I  wept  onto  his  *tomb, 
and  stood  in  the  capital  he  had  foundered. 

Thomas  J.  come  one  day  while  I  wus  musin'  on  George ; 
and  he  says,  — 

"  What  are  you  lookin'  so  close  at  that  dear  old  hum 
bug  for?" 

Says  I  firmly,  and  keepin'  the  same  posture,  "I  am 
studyin'  the  face  of  the  revered  and  noble  G.  Washington. 
I  am  going  shortly  to  weep  on  his  tomb  and  the  capital 
he  foundered.  I  am  studyin'  his  face,  and  Gass'es  '  Jour 
nal,'  and  other  works,"  says  I. 


SWEET  CICELY.  139 

"  If  you  are  going  to  the  capital,  you  had  better  study 
Dante." 

Says  I,  "Danty  who?" 

And  he  says,  " Just  plain  Dante."  Says  he,  "You  had 
better  study  his  inscription  on  the  door  of  the  infern  "  — 

Says  I,  "  Cease  instantly.  You  are  on  the  very  pint 
of  swearin* ; "  and  I  don't  know  now  what  he  meant,  and 
don't  much  care.  Thomas  J.  is  full  of  queer  remarks, 
anyway.  But  deep.  He  had  a  sick  spell  a  few  weeks 
ago ;  and  I  went  to  see  him  the  first  thing  in  the  mornin', 
after  I  heard  of  it.  He  had  overworked,  the  doctor  said, 
and  his  heart  wuz  a  little  weak.  He  looked  real  white ; 
and  I  took  holt  of  his  hand,  and  says  I,  — 

"  Thomas  J.,  I  am  worried  about  you :  your  pulse  don't 
beat  hardly  any." 

"No,"  says  he.  And  he  laughed  with  his  eyes  and  his 
lips  too.  "  I  am  glad  I  am  not  a  newspaper  this  morning, 
mother." 

And  I  says,  "Why?" 

And  he  says,  "If  I  were  a  morning  paper,  mother,  I 
shouldn't  be  a  success,  my  circulation  is  so  weak." 

A  jokiii'  right  there,  when  he  couldn't  lift  his  head. 
But  he  got  over  it :  he  always  did  have  them  sort  of  sick 
spells,  from  a  little  child. 

But  a  manlier,  good-hearteder,  level-headeder  boy  never 
lived  than  Thomas  Jefferson  Allen.  He  is  just  right,  and 
always  wuz.  And  though  I  wouldn't  have  it  get  out  for 
the  world,  I  can't  help  seein'  it,  that  he  goes  fur  ahead  of 
Tirzah  Ann  in  intellect,  and  nobleness  of  nater ;  and 
though  I  love  'em  both  devotedly,  I  do,  and  I  can't  help 
it,  like  him  jest  a  little  mite  the  best.  But  this  I  wouldn't 


140  SWEET  CICELY. 

have  get  out  for  a  thousand  dollars.  I  tell  it  in  strict 
confidence,  and  s'pose  it  will  be  kep'  as  such.  Mebby  I 
hadn't  ort  to  tell  it  at  all.  Mebby  it  hain't  quite  orthodox 
in  me  to  feel  so.  But  it  is  truthful,  anyway.  And  some 
times  I  get  to  kinder  wobblin'  round  inside  of  my  mind, 
and  a  wonderin'  which  is  the  best,  —  to  be  orthodox,  or 
truthful,  —  and  I  sort  o'  settle  down  to  thinkin'  I  will  tell 
the  truth  anyway. 

Josiah,  I  think,  likes  Tirzah  Ann  the  best. 

But  I  studied  deep,  and  mused.  Mused  on  our  4  fa 
thers,  and  our  4  mothers,  arid  on  Liberty,  and  Independ 
ence,  and  Truth,  and  the  Eagle.  And  thinkin'  I  might 
jest  as  well  be  to  work  while  I  was  a  musin',  I  had  a  dress 
made  for  the  occasion.  It  wus  bran  new,  and  the  color 
wus  Bismark  Brown. 

Josiah  wanted  me  to  have  Ashes  of  Moses  color. 

But  I  said  no.  With  my  mind  in  the  heroic  state  it 
was  then^  I  couldn't  curb  it  down  onto  Ashes  of  Moses, 
or  roses,  or  any  thing  else  peacible.  I  felt  that  this 
color,  remindin'  me  of  two  grand  heroes,  —  Bismark,  John 
Brown,  — suited  me  to  a  T. 

There  wus  two  wimmen  who  stood  ready  to  make  it, 
—  Jane  Bently  and  Martha  Snyder.  I  chose  Martha  be 
cause  Martha  wus  the  name  of  the  wife  of  Washington. 

It  wus  made  with  a  bask. 

When  the  news  got  out  that  I  wus  goin'  to  Washington 
on  a  tower,  the  neighbors  all  wanted  to  send  errents  by 
me. 

Betsey  Bobbet  wanted  me  to  go  to  the  Patent  Office, 
and  get  her  two  Patent-office  books,  for  scrap-books  for 
poetry. 


.   SWEET  CICELY.  141 

Uncle  Jarvis  Bently  wanted  me  to  go  to  the  Agricul 
tural  Bureau,  and  get  him  a  paper  of  lettis  seed.  And 
Solomon  Cypher  wanted  me  to  get  him  a  new  kind  of 
string-beans,  if  I  could,  and  some  cowcumber  seeds. 

Uncle  Nate  Gowdey,  who  talked  of  paintin'  his  house 
over,  wanted  me  to  ask  the  President  what  kind  of  paint 
he  used  on  the  White  House,  and  if  he  put  in  any  sperits 
of  turpentime.  And  Ardelia  Rumsey,  who  wuz  goin'  to 
be  married  soon,  wanted  me,  if  I  see  any  new  kinds  of 
bed-quilt  patterns  to  the  White  House,  or  to  the  senators' 
housen,  to  get  the  patterns  for  her.  She  said  she  wus  sick 
of  sunflowers,  and  blazin'  stars,  and  such.  She  thought 
mebby  they'd  have  suthin'  new,  spread-eagle  style,  or 
suthin'  of  that  kind.  She  said  "  her  feller  was  goin'  to  be 
connected  with  the  Government,  and  she  thought  it  \vould 
be  appropriate," 

And  I  asked  her  "  how  ?  "  And  she  said,  u  he  was  goin' 
to  get  a  patent  on  a  new  kind  of  a  jack-knife." 

I  told  her  "  if  she  wanted  a  Government  quilt,  and 
wanted  it  appropriate,  she  ort  to  have  it  a  crazy-quilt." 

And  she  said  she  had  jest  finished  a  crazy-quilt,  with 
seven  thousand  pieces  of  silk  in  it,  and  each  piece  trimmed 
with  seven  hundred  stitches  of  feather  stitchin' :  she 
counted  'em.  And  then  I  remembered  seem'  it.  There 
wus  some  talk  then  about  wimmen's  rights,  and  a  petition 
wus  got  up  in  Jonesville  for  wimmen  to  sign ;  and  I  re 
member  well  that  Ardelia  couldn't  sign  it  for  lack  of  time. 
She  wanted  to,  but  she  hadn't  got  the  quilt  more'n  half 
done  then.  It  took  the  biggest  heft  of  two  years  to  do  it. 
And  so,  of  course,  less  important  things  had  to  be  put 
aside  till  she  got  it  finished. 


142  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  I  remember,  too,  that  Ardelia's  mother  wanted  to 
sign  it ;  but  she  couldn't,  owin'  to  a  bed-spread  she  wus  a 
makin'.  She  wuz  a  quiltin'  in  Noah's  ark,  and  all  the 
animals,  at  that  time,  011  a  Turkey-red  quilt.  I  remember 
she  wuz  a  quiltin'  the  camel  that  day,  and  couldn't  be  dis 
turbed.  So  we  didn't  get  the  names.  It  took  the  old  lady 
three  years  to  quilt  that  quilt.  And  when  it  wuz  done,  it 
wuz  a  sight  to  behold.  Though,  as  I  said  then,  and  say 
now,  I  wouldn't  give  much  to  sleep  under  so  many  ani 
mals.  But  folks  went  from  fur  and  near  to  see  it,  and  I 
enjoyed  lookin'  at  it  that  day.  And  I  see  jest  how  it  wuz. 
I  see  that  she  couldn't  sign.  It  wuzn't  to  be  expected 
that  a  woman  could  stop  to  tend  to  Justice  or  Freedom, 
or  any  thing  else  of  that  kind,  right  in  the  midst  of  a 
camel. 

Zebulin  Coon  wanted  me  to  carry  a  new  hen-coop  of 
hisen  to  get  it  patented.  And  I  thought  to  myself,  I  won 
der  if  they'll  ask  me  to  carry  a  cow. 

And  sure  enough,  Josiah  wanted  me  to  dicker,  if  I  could, 
for  a  calf  from  Mount  Vernon,  —  swop  one  of  our  yearlin's 
for  it  if  I  couldn't  do  no  better. 

But  I  told  him  right  out  and  out,  that  I  couldn't  go  into 
a  calf-trade  with  my  mind  wrought  up  as  I  knew  it  would 
be. 

Wall,  it  wuzn't  more'n  2  or  3  days  after  I  begun  my 
preparations,  that  Dorlesky  Burpy,  a  vegetable  widow, 
come  to  see  me ;  and  the  errents  she  sent  by  me  wuz  fur 
more  hefty  and  momentous  than  all  the  rest  put  together, 
calves,  hen-coop,  and  all. 

And  when  she  told  'em  over  to  me,  and  I  meditated  on 
her  reasons  for  sendin'  'em,  and  her  need  of  havin'  'em 


SWEET  CICELY. 


143 


THE  MOTHER'S  BEI>-QTJILT. 


144  SWEET  CICELY. 

done,  I  felt  that  I  would  do  the  errents  for  her  if  a  breath 
was  left  in  my  body.  I  felt  that  I  would  bear  them  2 
errents  of  hern  on  my  tower  side  by  side  with  my  own 
private,  hefty  mission  for  Josiah. 

She  come  for  a  all  day's  visit ;  and  though  she  is  a  vege 
table  widow,  and  very  humbly,  I  wuz  middlin'  glad  to  see 
her.  But  thinks'es  I  to  myself  as  I  carried  away  her 
things  into  the  bedroom,  "  She'll  want  to  send  some  er- 
rent  by  me  ;  "  and  I  wondered  what  it  wouldn't  be. 

And  so  it  didn't  surprise  me  any  when  she' asked  me  the 
first  thing  when  I  got  back  "  if  I  would  lobby  a  little  for 
her  in  Washington." 

And  I  looked  agreeable  to  the  idee  ;  for  I  s'posed  it  wuz 
some  new  kind  of  tattin',  mebby,  or  fancy  work.  And  I 
told  her  "  I  shouldn't  have  much  time,  but  I  would  try  to 
buy  her  some  if  I  could." 

And  she  said  "  she  wanted  me  to  lobby,  myself." 

And  then  I  thought  mebby  it  wus  some  new  kind  of 
waltz ;  and  I  told  her  "  I  was  too  old  to  lobby,  I  hadn't 
lobbied  a  step  since  I  was  married." 

And  then  she  said  "  she  wanted  me  to  canvass  some  of 
the  senators." 

And  I  hung  back,  and  asked  her  in  a  cautius  tone  "  how 
many  she  wanted  canvassed,  and  how  much  canvass  it 
would  take  ?  " 

I  knew  I  had  a  good  many  things  to  buy  for  my  tower ; 
and,  though  I  wanted  to  obleege  Dorlesky,  I  didn't  feel 
like  runnin'  into  any  great  expense  for  canvass. 

And  then  she  broke  off  from  that  subject,  and  said  "  she 
wanted  her  rights,  and  wanted  the  Whiskey  Ring  broke 
up." 


SWEET  CICELY.  145 

/ 

And  then  she  says,  going  back  to  the  old  subject  agin, 
"  I  hear  that  Josiah  Allen  has  political  hopes :  can  I  can 
vass  him  ?  " 

And  I  says,  "  Yes,  you  can  for  all  me."  But  I  men 
tioned  cautiously,  for  I  believe  in  bein'  straightforward, 
and  not  holdin'  out  no  false  hopes,  —  I  said  "she  must 
furnish  her  own  canvass,  for  I  hadn't  a  mite  in  the 
house." 

But  Josiah  didn't  get  home  till  after  her  folks  come 
after  her.  So  he  wuzn't  canvassed. 

But  she  talked  a  sight  about  her  children,  and  how  bad 
she  felt  to  be  parted  from  'em,  and  how  much  she  used  to 
think  of  her  husband,  and  how  her  hull  life  wus  ruined, 
and  how  the  Whiskey  Ring  had  done  it,  —  that,  and  wim- 
men's  helpless  condition  under  the  law.  And  she  cried, 
and  wept,  and  cried  about  her  children,  and  her  sufferings 
she  had  suffered ;  and  I  did.  I  cried  onto  my  apron,  and 
couldn't  help  it.  A  new  apron  too.  And  right  while  I 
wus  cryin'  onto  that  gingham  apron,  she  made  me  promise 
to  carry  them  two  errents  of  hern  to  the  President,  and 
to  get  'em  done  for  her  if  I  possibly  could. 

"She  wanted  the  Whiskey  Ring  destroyed,  and  she 
wanted  her  rights ;  and  she  wanted  'em  both  in  less  than 
2  weeks." 

I  wiped  my  eyes  off,  and  told  her  I  didn't  believe  she 
could  get  'em  done  in  that  length  of  time,  but  I  would  tell 
the  President  about  it,  and  "  I  thought  more'n  as  likely  as 
not  he  would  want  to  do  right  by  her."  And  says  I,  "  If 
he  sets  out  to,  he  can  haul  them  babys  of  yourn  out  of 
that  Ring  pretty  sudden." 

And  then,  to  kinder  get  her  mind  off  of  her  sufferin's, 


146  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  asked  her  how  her  sister  Susan  wus  a  gettin'  along.  I 
hadn't  heard  from  her  for  years  —  she  married  Philemon 
Clapsaddle  ;  and  Dorlesky  spoke  out  as  bitter  as  a  bitter 
walnut  —  a  green  one.  And  says  she,  — 

"  She  is  in  the  poorhouse." 

"  Why,  Dorlesky  Burpy !  "  says  I.  "  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  what  I  say.  My  sister,  Susan  Clapsaddle,  is  in 
the  poorhouse." 

"  Why,  where  is  their  property  all  gone  ? "  says  I. 
"They  was  well  off — Susan  had  five  thousand  dollars  of 
her  own  when  she  married  him." 

"I  know  it,"  says  she.  "And  I  can  tell  you,  Josiah 
Allen's  wife,  where  their  property  is  gone.  It  has  gone 
down  Philemon  Clapsaddle's  throat.  Look  down  that 
man's  throat,  and  you  will  see  150  acres  of  land,  a  good 
house  and  barns,  20  sheep,  and  40  head  of  cattle." 

"  Why-ee  !  "  says  I. 

"  Yes,  you  will  see  'em  all  down  that  man's  throat." 
And  says  she,  in  still  more  bitter  axents,  "  You  will  see 
four  mules,  and  a  span  of  horses,  two  buggies,  a  double 
sleigh,  and  three  buffalo-robes.  He  has  drinked  'em  all 
up  —  and  2  horse-rakes,  a  cultivator,  and  a  thrashin'- 
machine. 

"  Why !  Why-ee  !  "  says  I  agin.  "  And  where  are  the 
children  ?  " 

"  The  boys  have  inherited  their  father's  evil  habits,  and 
drink  as  bad  as  he  duz ;  and  the  oldest  girl  has  gone  to 
the  bad." 

"  Oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  me  ! "  says  I.  And  we  both  sot 
silent  for  a  spell.  And  then,  thinkin'  I  must  say  sunthin', 


SWEET  CICELY.  147 

and  wantin'  to  strike  a  safe  subject,  and  a  good-lookin'  one, 
I  says,  — 

"  Where  is  your  aunt  Eunice 'es  girl  ?  that  pretty  girl  I 
see  to  your  house  once." 

"  That  girl  is  in  the  lunatick  asylum." 

"  Dorlesky  Burpy ! "  says  I.  "  Be  you  a  tellin'  the 
truth?" 

"Yes,  I  be,  the  livin'  truth.  She  went  to  New  York 
to  buy  millinary  goods  for  her  mother's  store.  It  wus 
quite  cool  when  she  left  home,  and  she  hadn't  took  off 
her  winter  clothes :  and  it  come  on  brilin'  hot  in  the  city ; 
and  in  goin'  about  from  store  to  store,  the  heat  and  the 
hard  work  overcome  her,  and  she  fell  down  in  the  street 
in  a  sort  of  a  faintm'-fit,  and  was  called  drunk,  and 
dragged  off  to  a  police  court  by  a  man  who  wus  a  animal 
in  human  shape.  And  he  misused  her  in  such  a  way,  that 
she  never  got  over  the  horror  of  what  befell  her  —  when 
she  come  to,  to  find  herself  at  the  mercy  of  a  brute  in  a 
man's  shape.  She  went  into  a  melancholy  madness,  and 
wus  sent  to  the  asylum.  Of  course  they  couldn't  have 
wimmen  in  such  places  to  take  care  of  wimmen,"  says  she 
bitterly. 

I  sithed  a  long  and  mournful  sithe,  and  sot  silent  agin 
for  quite  a  spell.  But  thinkin'  I  must  be  sociable,  I 
says,  — 

"  Your  aunt  Eunice  is  well,  I  s'pose  ?  " 

"She  is  a  moulderin'  in  jail,"  says  she. 

"  In  jail  ?     Eunice  Keeler  in  jail  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  jail."  And  Dorlesky's  tone  wus  now  like  worm 
wood,  wormwood  and  gall. 

"  You  know,  she  owns  a  big  property  in  tenement-houses, 


148 


SWEET  CICELY. 


and  other  buildings,  where  she  lives.  Of  course  her  taxes 
wus  awful  high ;  and  she  didn't  expect  to  have  any  voice 
in  tellin'  how  that  money,  a  part  of  her  own  property,  that 
she  earned  herself  in  a  store,  should  be  used. 


MAN   LIFTING    UP   EUNICE. 

"  But  she  had  jest  been  taxed  high  for  new  sidewalks  in 
front  of  some  of  her  buildin's. 

"  And  then  another  man  come  into  power  in  that  ward, 
and  he  natrully  wanted  to  make  some  money  out  of  her ; 
and  he  had  a  spite  aginst  her,  too,  so  he  ordered  her  to 
build  new  sidewalks.  And  she  wouldn't  tear  up  a  good 


SWEET  CICELY. 


149 


sidewalk  to  please  him  or  anybody  else,  so  she  was  put  to 
jail  for  refusin'  to  comply  with  the  law." 

Thinks'es  I  to  myself,  I  don't  believe  the  law  would 
have  been  so  hard  on  her 
if  she  hadn't  been  so  hum 
bly.  The  Burpys  are  a 
humbly  lot.  But  I  didn't 
think  it  out  loud.  And 
I  didn't  uphold  the  law  for 
feelin'  so,  if  it  did.  No: 
I  says  in  pityin'  tones, — 
for  I  wus  truly  sorry  for 
Eunice  Keeler,  — 

"How  did  it  end?" 

"It  hain't  ended,"  says 
she.  "It  only  took  place 
a  month  ago ;  and  she  has 
got  her  grit  up,  and  won't 
pay :  and  no  knowin'  how 
it  will  end.  She  lays  there 
a  moulderin'." 

I  myself  don't  believe 
Eunice  wus  "  mouldy ;  " 
but  that  is  Dorlesky's  way 
of  talkin',  —  very  flowery. 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  do  you 
think  the  weather  is  goin'  to  moderate  ?  " 

I  truly  felt  that  I  dassent  speak  to  her  about  any 
human  bein'  under  the  sun,  not  knowin'  what  turn  she 
would  give  to  the  conversation,  bein'  so  embittered.  But 
I  felt  the  weather  wus  safe,  and  cotton  stockin's,  and 


EUNICE   IN   JAIL. 


150  SWEET  CICELY. 

factory-cloth ;  and  I  kep'  her  down  onto  them  subjects  for 
more'n  two  hours. 

But,  good  land !  I  can't  blame  her  for  bein'  embittered 
aginst  men  and  the  laws  they  have  made  ;  for,  if  ever  a 
woman  has  been  tormented,  she  has. 

It  honestly  seems  to  me  as  if  I  never  see  a  human 
creeter  so  afflicted  as  Dorlesky  Burpy  has  been,  all  her 
life. 

Why,  her  sufferin's  date  back  before  she  wus  born ;  and 
that  is  goin'  pretty  fur  back.  You  see,  her  father  and 
mother  had  had  some  difficulty :  and  he  wus  took  down 
with  billions  colic  voyolent  four  weeks  before  Dorlesky 
wus  born ;  and  some  think  it  wus  the  hardness  between 
'em,  and  some  think  it  wus  the  gripin'  of  the  colic  at  the 
time  he  made  his  will ;  anyway,  he  willed  Dorlesky  away, 
boy  or  girl,  whichever  it  wuz,  to  his  brother  up  on  the 
Canada  line. 

So,  when  Dorlesky  wus  born  (and  born  a  girl,  entirely 
onbeknown  to  her),  she  wus  took  right  away  from  her 
mother,  and  gin  to  this  brother.  Her  mother  couldn't 
help  herself:  he  had  the  law  on  his  side.  But  it  jest 
killed  her.  She  drooped  right  away  and  died,  before  the 
baby  wus  a  year  old.  She  was  a  affectionate,  tender 
hearted  woman ;  and  her  husband  wus  kinder  overbearing 
and  stern  always. 

But  it  wus  this  last  move  of  hisen  that  killed  her ;  for 
I  tell  you,  it  is  pretty  tough  on  a  mother  to  have  her  baby, 
a  part  of  her  own  life,  took  right  out  of  her  arms,  and  gin 
to  a  stranger. 

For  this  uncle  of  hern  wus  a  entire  stranger  to  Dorlesky 
when  the  will  wus  made.  And  almost  like  a  stranger  to 


SWEET   CICELY.  151 

her  father,  for  he  hadn't  seen  him  sence  he  wus  a  boy ; 
but  he  knew  he  hadn't  any  children,  and  s'posed  he  wus 
rich  and  respectable.  But  the  truth  wuz,  he  had  been  a 
runnin'  down  every  way,  —  had  lost  his  property  and  his 
character,  wus  dissipated  and  mean  (onbeknown,  it  wus 
s'posed,  to  Dorlesky's  father).  But  the  will  was  made, 
and  the  law  stood.  Men  are  ashamed  now,  to  think  the 
law  wus  ever  in  voge  ;  but  it  wuz,  and  is  now  in  some  of 
the  States.  The  law  wus  in  voge,  and  the  poor  young 
mother  couldn't  help  herself.  It  has  always  been  the 
boast  of  our  American  law,  that  it  takes  care  of  wimmen. 
It  took  care  of  her.  It  held  her  in  its  strong,  protectin' 
grasp,  and  held  her  so  tight,  that  the  only  way  she  could 
slip  out  of  it  wus  to  drop, into  the  grave,  which  she  did  in 
a  few  months.  Then  it  leggo. 

But  it  kep'  holt  of  Dorlesky :  it  bound  her  tight  to  her 
uncle,  while  he  run  through  with  what  little  property  she 
had;  while  he  sunk  lower  and  lower,  until  at  last  he 
needed  the  very  necessaries  of  life  ;  and  then  he  bound 
her  out  to  work,  to  a  woman  who  kep'  a  drinkin'-den,  and 
the  lowest,  most  degraded  hant  of  vice. 

Twice  Dorlesky  run  away,  beiii'  virtuous  but  humbly ; 
but  them  strong,  protectin.'  arms  of  the  law  that  had  held 
her  mother  so  tight,  jest  reached  out,  and  dragged  her 
back  agin.  Upheld  by  them,  her  uncle  could  compel  her 
to  give  her  service  wherever  he  wanted  her  to  work ;  and 
he  wus  owin'  this  woman,  and  she  wanted  Dorlesky's  work, 
so  she  had  to  submit. 

But  the  3d  time,  she  made  a  effort  so  voyalent  that  she 
got  away.  A  good  woman,  who,  bein'  iiothin'  but  a 
woman,  couldn't  do  any  thing  towards  onclinchin'  them 


152  SWEET  CICELY. 

powerful  arms  that  wuz  protectin'  her,  helped  her  to  slip 
through  'em.  And  Dorlesky  come  to  Jonesville  to  live 
with  a  sister  of  that  good  woman ;  changed  her  name,  so's 
it  wouldn't  be  so  easy  to  find  her;  grew  up  to  be  a  nice, 
industrious  girl.  And  when  the  woman  she  was  took  by, 
died,  she  left  Dorlesky  quite  a  handsome  property. 

And  finally  she  married  Lank  Rumsey,  and  did  consid 
erable  well,  it  was  s'posed.  Her  property,  put  with  what 
little  he  had,  made  'em  a  comfortable  home  ;  and  they  had 
two  pretty  little  children,  —  a  boy  and  a  girl.  But  when 
the  little  girl  was  a  baby,  he  took  to  drinkin',  neglected 
his  business,  got  mixed  up  with  a  whisky-ring,  whipped 
Dorlesky  —  not  so  very  hard.  He  went  accordin'  to  law ; 
and  the  law  of  the  United  States  don't  approve  of  a  man 
whippin'  his  wife  enough  to  endanger  her  life  —  it  says  it 
don't.  He  made  every  move  of  hisen  lawful,  and  felt 
that  Dorlesky  hadn't  ort  to  complain  and  feel  hurt.  But 
a  good  whippin'  will  make  anybody  feel  hurt,  law  or  no 
law.  And  then  he  parted  with  her,  and  got  her  property 
and  her  two  little  children.  Why,  it  seemed  as  if  every 
thing  under  the  sun  and  moon,  that  could  happen  to  a 
woman,  had  happened  to  Dorlesky,  painful  things,  and 
gaulin'. 

Jest  before  Lank  parted  with  her,  she  fell  on  a  broken 
sidewalk :  some  think  he  tripped  her  up,  but  it  never  was 
proved.  But,  anyway,  Dorlesky  fell,  and  broke  her  hip 
bone  ;  and  her  husband  sued  the  corporation,  and  got  ten 
thousand  dollars  for  it.  Of  course,  the  law  give  the  money 
to  him,  and  she  never  got  a  cent  of  it.  But  she  wouldn't 
never  have  made  any  fuss  over  that,  knowin'  that  the  law 
of  the  United  States  was  such.  But  what  made  it  gaulin' 


SWEET  CICELY.  153 

to  her  wtiz,  that,  while  she  was  layin'  there  achin'  in 
splints,  he  took  that  very  money  and  used  it  to  court  up 
another  woman  with.  Gin  her  presents,  jewellry,  bunnets, 
head-dresses,  artificial  flowers,  and  etcetery,  out  of  Dor- 
lesky's  own  hip-money. 

And  I  don't  know  as  any  thing  could  be  much  more 


DOKLESKY'S  TKIALS. 

gaulin'  to  a  woman  than  that  wuz,  —  while  she  lay  there, 
groanin*  in  splints,  to  have  her  husband  take  the  money 
for  her  own  broken  bones,  and  dress  up  another  woman 
like  a  doll  with  it. 

But  the  law  gin  it  to  him;  and  he  was  only  availin' 
himself  of  the  glorious  liberty  of  our  free  republic,  and 
doin'  as  he  was  a  mind  to. 

And  it  was  s'posed  that  that  very  hip-money  was  what 


154  SWEET  CICELY. 

made  the  match.  For,  before  she  wus  fairly  out  of  splints, 
he  got  a  divorce  from  her.  And  by  the  help  of  that 
money,  and  the  Whisky  Ring,  he  got  her  two  little  chil 
dren  away  from  her. 

And  I  wonder  if  there  is  a  mother  in  the  land,  that  can 
blame  Dorlesky  for  gettin'  mad,  and  wantin'  her  rights, 
and  wantin'  the  Whisky  Ring  broke  up,  when  they  think 
it  over,  —  how  she  has  been  fooled  round  with  by  men, 
willed  away,  and  whipped  and  parted  with  and  stole  from. 
Why,  they  can't  blame  her  for  feelin'  fairly  savage  about 
'em  —  and  she  duz.  For  as  she  says  to  me  once  when  we 
wus  a  talkin'  it  over,  how  every  thing  had  happened  to 
her  that  could  happen  to  a  woman,  and  how  curious  it 
wuz,  — 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  with  a  axent  like  boneset  and  vinegar, 
— "  and  what  few  things  there  are  that  hain't  happened 
to  me,  has  happened  to  my  folks." 

And,  sure  enough,  I  couldn't  dispute  her.  Trouble 
and  wrongs  and  sufferin's  seemed  to  be  epidemic  in  the 
race  of  Burpy  wimmen.  Why,  one  of  her  aunts  on  her 
father's  side,  Patty  Burpy,  married  for  her  first  husband 
Eliphalet  Perkins.  He  was  a  minister,  rode  on  a  circuit. 
And  he  took  Patty  on  it  too ;  and  she  rode  round  with 
him  on  it,  a  good  deal  of  the  time.  But  she  never  loved 
to :  she  wus  a  woman  who  loved  to  be  still,  and  be  kinder 
settled  down  at  home.. 

But  she  loved  Eliphalet  so  well,  she  would  do  any  thing 
to  please  him:  so  she  rode  round  with  him  on  that  circuit, 
till  she  was  perfectly  fagged  out. 

He  was  a  dretful  good  man  to  her ;  but  he  wus  kinder 
poor,  and  they  had  hard  times  to  get  along.  But  what 


SWEET  CICELY.  155 

property  they  had  wuzn't  taxed,  so  that  helped  some  ;  and 
Patty  would  make  one  doller  go  a  good  ways. 

No,  their  property  wasn't  taxed  till  Eliphalet  died. 
Then  the  supervisor  taxed  it  the  very  minute  the  breath 
left  his  body ;  run  his  horse,  so  it  was  said,  so's  to  be  sure 
to  get  it  onto  the  tax-list,  and  comply  with  the  law. 

You  see,  Eliphalet's  salary  stopped  when  his  breath  did. 
And  I  s'pose  mebby  the  law  thought,  seein'  she  was  a  hav- 
in'  trouble,  she  might  jest  as  well  have  a  little  more  ;  so 
it  taxed  all  the  property  it  never  had  taxed  a  cent  for 
before. 

But  she  had  this  to  console  her  anyway,  —  that  the  law 
didn't  forget  her  in  her  widowhood.  No  :  the  law  is  quite 
thoughtful  of  wimmen,  by  spells.  It  says,  the  law  duz, 
that  it  protects  wimmen.  And  I  s'pose  in  some  myste 
rious  way,  too  deep  for  wimmen  to  understand,  it  was  pro- 
tectin'  her  now. 

Wall,  she  suffered  along,  and  finally  married  agin.  I 
wondered  why  she  did.  But  she  was  such  a  quiet,  home- 
lovin'  woman,  that  it  was  s'posed  she  wanted  to  settle 
down,  and  be  kinder  still  and  sot.  But  of  all  the  bad  luck 
she  had !  She  married  on  short  acquaintance,  and  he 
proved  to  be  a  perfect  wanderer.  Why,  he  couldn't  keep 
still.  It  was  s'posed  to  be  a  mark. 

He  moved  Patty  thirteen  times  in  two  years ;  and  at 
last  he  took  her  into  a  cart,  —  a  sort  of  a  covered  wagon, 
—  and  travelled  right  through  the  Eastern  States  with 
her.  He  wanted  to  see  the  country,  and  loved  to  live 
in  the  wagon :  it  was  his  make.  And,  of  course,  the 
law  give  him  the  control  of  her  body  ;  and  she  had  to 
go  where  he  moved  it,  or  else  part  with  him.  And  I 


156 


SWEET  CICELY. 


s'pose  the  law  thought  it  was  guardin'  and  nourishin'  her 
when  it  was  a  joltin'  her  over  them  praries  and  mountains 
and  abysses.  But  it  jest  kep'  her  shook  up  the  hull  of 
the  time. 

It  wus  the  regular  Burpy  luck. 

And  then,  another  one  of  her  aunts,  Drusilla  Burpy,  she 
married  a  industrius,  hard-workin'  man,  —  one  that  never 


ky*Sr 

PATTY  AND  HUSBAND  TRAVELLING  IN  THE   FAR  WEST. 

drinked  a  drop,  and  was  sound  on  the  doctrines,  and  give 
good  measure  to  his  customers :  he  was  a  grocer-man. 
And  a  master  hand  for  wantin'  to  foller  the  laws  of  his 
country,  as  tight  as  laws  could  be  follered.  And  so, 
knowin'  that  the  law  approved  of  "  moderate  correction  " 
for  wimmen,  and  that  "  a  man  might  whip  his  wife,  but 
not  enough  to  endanger  her  life,"  he  bein'  such  a  master 
hand  for  wantin'  to  do  every  thing  faithful,  and  do  his 
very  best  for  his  customers,  it  was  s'posed  that  he  wanted 


SWEET  CICELY.  157 

to  do  his  best  for  the  law ;  and  so,  when  he  got  to  whip- 
pin'  Brasilia,  he  would  whip  her  too  severe  —  he  would  be 
too  faithful  to  it. 

You  see,  the  way  ont  was,  what  made  him  whip  her  at 
all  wiiz,  she  was  cross  to  him.  They  had  nine  little  chil 
dren.  She  always  thought  that  two  or  three  children 
would  be  about  all  one  woman  could  bring  up  well  "  by 
hand,"  when  that  one  hand  wuz  so  awful  full  of  work,  as 
will  be  told  more  ensuin'ly.  But  he  felt  that  big  families 
wuz  a  protection  to  the  Government;  and  "he  wanted 
fourteen  boys,"  he  said,  so  they  could  all  f oiler  their 
father's  footsteps,  and  be  noble,  law-making,  law-abiding 
citizens,  jest  as  he  was. 

But  she  had  to  do  every  mite  of  the  housework,  and 
milk  cows,  and  make  butter  and  cheese,  and  cook  and 
wash  and  scour,  and  take  all  the  care  of  the  children,  day 
and  night,  in  sickness  and  in  health,  and  spin  and  weave 
the  cloth  for  their  clothes  (as  wimmen  did  in  them  days), 
and  then  make  'em,  and  keep  'em  clean.  And  when  there 
wuz  so  many  of  'em,  and  only  about  a  year's  difference  in 
their  ages,  some  of  'em  —  why,  I  s'pose  she  sometimes 
thought  more  of  her  own  achin'  back  than  she  did  of  the 
good  of  the  Government ;  and  she  would  get  kinder  dis 
couraged  sometimes,  and  be  cross  to  him. 

And  knowin'  his  own  motives  was  so  high  and  loyal,  he 
felt  that  he  ought  to  whip  her.  So  he  did. 

And  what  shows  that  Drusilla  wuzn't  so  bad  as  he 
s'posed  she  wuz,  what  shows  that  she  did  have  her  good 
streaks,  and  a  deep  reverence  for  the  law,  is,  that  she 
stood  his  whippin's  first-rate,  and  never  whipped  him. 

Now,  she  wuz   fur  bigger  than   he  wuz,  weighed   80 


158 


SWEET  CICELY. 


pounds  the  most,  and  might  have  whipped  him  if  the  law 
had  been  such. 

But  they  was  both  law-abidin',  and  wanted   to   keep 


BEATING   HIS   WIFE. 


every  preamble ;  so  she  stood  it  to  be  whipped,  and  never 
once  whipped  him  in  all  the  seventeen  years  they  lived 
together. 


SWEET  CICELY.  159 

She  died  when  her  twelfth  child  was  bom :  there  wus 
jest  13  months  difference  in  the  age  of  that  and  the  one 
next  older.  And  they  said  she  often  spoke  out  in  her  last 
sickness,  and  said,  — 

"  Thank  fortune,  I  have  always  kept  the  law." 

And  they  said  the  same  thought  wus  a  great  comfort  to 
him  in  his  last  moments. 

He  died  about  a  year  after  she  did,  leaving  his  2nd  wife 
with  twins  and  a  good  property. 

Then,  there  was  Abagail  Burpy.  She  married  a  sort  of 
a  high-headed  man,  though  one  that  paid ,  his  debts,  and 
was  truthful,  and  considerable  good-lookin',  and  played 
well  on  the  fiddle.  Why,  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  almost 
every  qualification  for  makin'  a  woman  happy,  only  he 
had  jest  this  one  little  excentricity, — that  man  would  lock 
up  Abagail  Burpy's  clothes  every  time  he  got  mad  at  her. 

Of  course  the  law  give  her  clothes  to  him ;  and  kuowin' 
it  was  one  of  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  she  wouldn't 
have  complained  only  when  she  had  company.  But  it 
was  mortifyin',  and  nobody  could  dispute  it,  to  have  com 
pany  come,  and  nothin'  to  put  on. 

Several  times  she  had  to  withdraw  into  the  wood-house, 
and  stay  most  of  the  day,  shiverin',  and  under  the  cellar- 
stairs,  and  round  in  clothes-presses. 

But  he  boasted  in  prayer-meetin's,  and  on  boxes  before 
grocery-stores,  that  he  wus  a  law-abidin'  citizen  ;  and  he 
wuz.  Eben  Flanders  wouldn't  lie  for  anybody. 

But  I'll  bet  that  Abagail  Flanders  beat  our  old  Revolu 
tionary  4  mothers  in  thinkin'  out  new  laws,  when  she 
lay  round  under  stairs,  and  behind  barrells,  in  her  night 
dress. 


160  SWEET  CICELY. 

You  see,  when  a  man  hides  his  wive's  corset  and  petti 
coat,  it  is  governin'  without  the  "consent  of  the  governed." 
And  if  you  don't  believe  it,  you  ort  to  have  peeked  round 
them  barrells,  and  seen  Abagail's  eyes.  Why,  they  had 
hull  reams  of  by-laws  in  'em,  and  preambles,  and  "  declara 
tions  of  independence."  So  I  have  been  told. 

Why,  it  beat  every  thing  I  ever  heard  on,  the  lawful 
sufferin's  of  them  wimmen.  For  there  wuzn't  nothin' 
illegal  about  one  single  trouble  of  theirn.  They  suffered 
accordin'  to  law,  every  one  of  'em.  But  it  wus  tuff  for 
'em  —  very  tuff. 

And  their  all  bein'  so  dretful  humbly  wuz  and  is 
another  drawback  to  'em ;  though  that,  too,  is  perfectly 
lawful,  as  everybody  knows. 

And  Dorlesky  looks  as  bad  agin  as  she  would  other- 
ways,  on  account  of  her  teeth. 

It  wus  after  Lank  had  begun  to  kinder  get  after  this 
other  woman,  and  wus  indifferent  to  his  wive's  looks,  that 
Dorlesky  had  a  new  set  of  teeth  on  her  upper  jaw.  And 
they  sort  o'  sot  out,  and  made  her  look  so  bad  that  it  fairly 
made  her  ache  to  look  at  herself  in  the  glass.  And  they 
hurt  her  gooms  too.  And  she  carried  'em  back  to  the  den 
tist,  and  wanted  him  to  make  her  another  set. 

But  the  dentist  acted  mean,  and  wouldn't  take  'em 
back,  and  sued  Lank  for  the  pay.  And  they  had  a  law 
suit.  And  the  law  bein'  such  that  a  woman  can't  testify 
in  court  in  any  matter  that  is  of  mutual  interest  to  hus 
band  and  wife  —  and  Lank  wantin'  to  act  mean,  too, 
testified  that  "  they  wus  good  sound  teeth." 

And  there  Dorlesky  sot  right  in  front  of  'em  with  her 
gooms  achin',  and  her  face  all  pokin'  out,  and  lookin'  like 


SWEET  CICELY.  161 

furyation,  and  couldn't  say  a  word.  But  she  had  to  give 
in  to  the  law. 

And  ruther  than  go  toothless,  she  wears  'em  to  this  day. 
And  I  do  believe  it  is  the  raspin'  of  them  teeth  aginst 
her  gooms,  and  her  discouraged  and  mad  feelin's  every 
time  she  looks  in  a  glass,  that  helps  to  embitter  her 
towards  men,  and  the  laws  men  have  made,  so's  a  wo 
man  can't  have  the  control  over  her  own  teeth  and  her 
own  bones. 

Wall,  Dorlesky  went  home  about  4  P.M.,  I  a  promisin' 
at'  the  last  minute  as  sacred  as  I  could,  without  usin'  a 
book,  to  do  her  errents  for  her. 

I  urged  her  to  stay  to  supper,  but  she  couldn't ;  for  she 
said  the  man  where  she  worked  was  usin'  his  horses,  and 
couldn't  come  after  her  agin.  And  she  said  that  — 

"Mercy  on  her!  how  could  anybody  eat  any  more 
supper  after  such  a  dinner  as  I  had  got?" 

And  it  wuzn't  nothin'  extra,  I  didn't  think.  No  better 
than  my  common  run  of  dinners. 

Wall,  she  hadn't  been  gone  over  an  hour  (she  a  holler- 
in'  from  the  wagon,  a  chargin'  on  me  solemn,  about  the 
errents,  —  the  man  she  works  for  is  deef,  deef  as  a  post,  — 
and  I  a  noddin'  to  her  firm,  honorable  nods,  that  I  would 
do  'em),  and  I  wus  a  slickin'  up  the  settin'-room,  and 
Martha,  who  had  jest  come  in,  wus  measurin'  off  my  skirt- 
breadths,  when  Josiah  Allen  drove  up,  and  Cicely  and  the 
boy  with  him. 

And  there  I  had  been  a  lay  in'  out  to  write  to  her  that 
very  night  to  tell  her  I  wus  goin'  away,  and  to  be  sure 
and  come  jest  as  quick  as  I  got  back  ! 

Wall,  I  never  see  the  time  I  wuzn't  glad  to  see  Cicely, 


162  SWEET  CICELY. 

and  I  felt  that  she  could  visit  to  Tirzah  Ann's  and  Thomas 
J.'s  while  I  wus  gone.  She  looked  dretful  pale  and  sad,  1 
thought ;  but  she  seemed  glad  to  see  me,  and  glad  to  get 
back. 

And  the  boy  asked  Josiah  and  Ury  and  me  47  questions 
between  the  wagon  and  the  front  doorstep,  for  I  counted 
'em.  He  wus  well. 

I  broached  the  subject  of  my  tower  to  Cicely  when 
she  and  I  wus  all  alone  in  her  room.  And,  if  you'll  be 
lieve  it,  she  all  rousted  up  with  the  idee  of  wantin'  to  go 
too. 

She  says,  "  You  know,  aunt  Samantha,  just  how  I  have 
prayed  and  labored  for  my  boy's  future  ;  how  I  have  made 
all  the  efforts  that  it  is  possible  for  a  woman  to  make ; 
how  I  have  thrown  my  heart  and  life  into  the  work,  — 
but  I  have  done  no  good.  That  letter,"  says  she,  takin' 
one  out  of  her  pocket,  and  throwin'  it  into  my  lap,  — 
"  that  letter  tells  me  just  what  I  knew  so  well  before,  — 
just  how  weak  a  woman  is ;  that  they  have  no  power,  only 
the  power  to  suffer." 

It  wus  from  that  old  executor,  refusin'  to  comply  with 
some  request  she  had  made  about  her  own  property,  —  a 
request  of  right  and  truth. 

Oh,  how  glad  I  would  have  been  to  had  him  execkuted 
that  very  minute !  Why,  I'd  done  it  myself  if  wimmen 
could  execkit  —  but  they  can't. 

Says  she,  "I'll  go  with  you  to  Washington,  — I  and  the 
boy.  Perhaps  I  can  do  something  for  him  there."  But 
when  she  mentioned  the  boy,  I  demurred  in  my  own  mind, 
and  kep'  a  demurrm'.  Thinks'es  I,  how  can  I  stand  it,  as 
tired  as  I  expect  to  be,  to  have  him  a  askin'  questions  all 


SWEET  CICELY.  163 

the  hull  time  ?  She  see  I  was  a  demurrin' ;  and  her  pretty 
face  grew  sadder  than  it  had,  and  overcasteder. 

And  as  I  see  that,  I  gin  in  at  once,  and  says  with*  a 
cheerful  face,  but  a  forebodin'  mind,  — 

"Wall,  Cicely,  we  three  will  embark  together  on  our 
tower." 

Wall,  after  supper  Cicely  and  I  sot  down  under  the 
front  stoop,  —  it  was  a  warm  evenin',  —  and  we  talked 
some  about  other  wimmen.  Not  runnin'  talk,  or  gossipin' 
talk,  but  jest  plain  talk,  about  her  aunt  Mary,  and  her 
aunt  Melissa,  and  her  aunt  Mary's  daughter,  who  wus  a 
runnin'  down,  runnin'  faster  than  ever,  so  I  judged  from 
what  she  said.  And  how  Susan  Ann  Grimshaw  that  was, 
had  a  young  babe.  She  said  her  aunt  Mary  was  better 
now,  so  she  had  started  for  the  Michigan;  but  she  had 
had  a  dretful  sick  spell  while  she  was  there. 

While  she  wuz  a  tellin'  me  this,  Cicely  sot  on  one  of  the 
steps  of  the  stoop :  I  sot  up  under  it  in  my  rockin'-chair. 
And  she  looked  dretful  good  to  me.  She  had  on  a  white 
dress.  She  most  always- wears  white  in  the  house,  when 
we  hain't  got  company ;  and  always  wears  black  when  she 
is  dressed  up,  and  when  she  goes  out. 

This  dress  was  made  of  white  mull.  The  yoke  wus 
made  all  of  thin  embroidery,  and  her  white  neck  and 
shoulders  shone  through  it  like  snow.  Her  sleeves  was 
all  trimmed  with  lace,  and  fell  back  from  her  pretty  white 
arms.  Her  hands  wus  clasped  over  her  knees;  and  her 
hair,  which  the  boy  had  got  loose  a  playin'  with  her,  wus 
fallin'  round  her  face  and  neck.  And  her  great,  earnest 
eyes  wus  lookin'  into  the  West,  and  the  light  from  the 
sunset  fallin'  through  the  mornin'-glorys  wus  a  fallin'  over 


164  SWEET  CICELY. 

her,  till  I  declare,  I  never  see  any  thing  look  so  pretty  in 
my  hull  life.  And  there  was  somethin'  more,  fur  more 
than  prettiness  in  her  face,  in  her  big  eyes. 

It  wuzn't  unhappiness,  and  it  wuzn't  happiness,  and  I 
don't  know  as  I  can  tell  what  it  wuz.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
wuz  a  lookin'  fur,  fur  away,  further  than  Jonesville,  fur 
ther  than  the  lake  that  lay  beyend  Jonesville,  and  which 
was  pure  gold  now,  —  a  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire,  — 
further  than  the  cloudy  masses  in  the  western  heavens, 
which  looked  like  a  city  of  shinin'  mansions,  fur  off;  but 
her  eyes  was  lookin'  away  off,  beyend  them. 

And  I  kep'  still,  and  didn't  feel  like  talkin'  about  other 
wimmen. 

Finally  she  spoke  out.  "  Aunt  Samantha,  what  do  you 
suppose  I  thought  when  dear  aunt  Mary  was  so  ill  when  I 
was  there  ?  " 

And  I  says,  "  I  don't  know,  dear :  what  did  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  thought,  that,  though  I  loved  her  so  dearly,  I 
almost  wished  she  would  die  while  I  was  there." 

"  Why,  Cicely  !  "  says  I.  "  Why-ee  !  what  did  you  wish 
that  for?  and  thinkin'  so  much  of  your  aunt  as  you  do." 

"Well,  you  know  how  mother  and  aunt  Mary  loved 
each  other,  how  near  they  were  to  each  other.  Why, 
mother  could  always  tell  when  aunt  Mary  was  ill  or  in 
trouble,  and  she  was  just  the  same  in  regard  to  mother. 
And  I  can't  think  that  when  death  has  freed  the  soul  from 
the  flesh,  that  they  will  have  less  spiritual  knowledge  of 
each  other  than  when  they  were  here  ;  and  I  felt,  that 
with  such  a  love  as  theirs,  death  would  only  make  their 
souls  nearer :  and  you  know  what  the  Bible  says,  —  that 
'  God  shall  make  of  his  angels  ministering  spirits  ; '  and  I 


LOOKING   BEYEND   THE   SUNSET. 


166  SWEET  CICELY. 

know  He  would  send  no  other  angel  but  my  mother,  to 
dear  aunt  Mary's  bedside,  to  take  her  spirit  home.  And 
I  thought,  that,  if  I  were  there,  my  mother  would  be  there 
right  in  the  room  with  me  ;  and  I  didn't  know  but  I  might 
feel  her  presence  if  I  could  not  see  her.  And  I  do  want 
my  mother  so  sometimes,  aunt  Samantha,"  says  she  with 
the  tears  comin'  into  them  soft  brown  eyes.  "  It  seems  as 
if  she  would  tell  me  what  to  do  for  the  boy  —  she  always 
knew  what  was  right  and  best  to  do." 

Says  I  to  myself,  "For  the  land's  sake,  what  won't 
Cicely  think  on  next  ? "  But  I  didn't  say  a  word,  mind 
you,  not  a  single  word  would  I  say  to  hurt  that  child's 
feelin's  —  not  for  a  silver  dollar,  I  wouldn't. 

I  only  says,  in  calm  accents,  — 

"Don't  for  mercy's  sake,  child,  talk  of  seein'  your 
mother  now." 

She  looked  far  off  into  the  shinin'  western  heavens  with 
that  deep,  searchin',  but  soft  gaze,  —  seemin'  to  look  clear 
through  them  cloudy  mansions  of  rose  and  pearl,  —  and 
says  she,  — 

"  If  I  were  good  enough,  I  think  I  could." 

And  I  says,  "Cicely,  you  are  goin'  to  take  cold,  with 
nothin'  round  your  shoulders."  Says  I,  "  The  weather  is 
very  ketchin',  and  it  looks  to  me  as  if  we  wus  goin'  to 
have  quite  a  spell  of  it." 

And  the  boy  overheard  me,  and  asked  me  75  questions 
about  ketchin'  the  weather. 

"  If  the  weather  set  a  trap  ?  If  it  ketched  with  bait,  or 
with  a  hook,  and  what  it  ketched  ?  and  how  ?  and  who  ?  " 

Oh  my  stars  !  what  a  time  I  did  have  ! 

The  next  mornin'  after  this  Cicely  wuzn't  well  enough 


SWEET  CICELY.  167 

to  get  up.  I  carried  up  her  breakfast  with  my  own  hands, 
—  a  good  one,  though  I  am  fur  from  bein'  the  one  that  ort 
to  say  it. 

And  after  breakfast,  along  in  the  forenoon,  Martha,  who 
was  makin'  my  dress,  felt  troubled  in  mind  as  to  whether 
she  had  better  cut  the  polenay  kitrin'  ways  of  the  cloth, 
or  not :  and  Miss  Gowdey  had  jest  had  one  made  in  the 
height  of  the  fashion,  to  Jonesville  ;  and  so  to  ease  Martha's 
mind  (she  is  one  that  gets  deprested  easy,  when  weighty 
subjects  are  pressin'  her  down),  I  said  I  would  run  over 
cross-lots,  and  carry  home  a  drawin'  of  tea  I  had  borrowed, 
and  look  at  the  polenay,  and  bring  back  tidin's  from  it. 
And  I  wus  goin'  there  acrost  the  orchard,  when  I  see  the 
boy  a  layin'  on  his  back  under  a  apple-tree,  lookin'  up  into 
the  sky  ;  and  says  I,  — 

"  What  be  you  doin'  here,  Paul  ?  " 

He  never  got  up,  nor  moved  a  mite.  That  is  one  of  the 
peculiarities  of  the  boy,  you  can't  surprise  him :  nothin' 
seems  to  startle  him. 

He  lay  still,  and  spoke  out  for  all  the  world  as  if  I  had 
been  there  with  him  all  day. 

"  I  am  lookin'  to  see  if  I  can  see  it.  I  thought  I  got  a 
glimpse  of  it  a  minute  ago,  but  it  wus  only  a  white 
cloud." 

" Lookin'  for  what?"  says  I. 

"  The  gate  of  that  City  that  comes  down  out  of  the 
heavens.  You  know,  uncle  Josiah  read  about  it  this 
morning,  out  of  that  big  book  he  prays  out  of  after  break 
fast.  He  said  the  gate  was  one  pearl. 

"  And  I  asked  mamma  what  a  pearl  was,  and  she  said  it 
was  just  like  that  ring  she  wears  that  papa  gave  her.  And 


168 


SWEET  CICELY. 


I  asked  her  where  the  City  was,  and  she  said  it  was  up  in 
the  heavens.  And  I  asked  her  if  I  should  ever  see  it ;  and 
she  said,  if  I  was  good,  it  would  swing  down  out  of  the 


LOOKING    FOB  THE   CITY. 


sky,  sometime,  and  that  shining  gate  would  open,  and  I 
should  walk  through  it  into  the  City. 

"  And  I  went  right  to  being  good,  that  minute ;  and  I 


SWEET  CICELY.  169 

have  been  good  for  as  many  as  three  hours,  I  should  think. 
And  say,  how  long  have  you  got  to  be  good  before  you 
can  go  through  ?  And  say,  can  you  see  it  before  you  go 
through  ?  And  SAY  "  — 

But  I  had  got  most  out  of  hearin'  then. 

"  And  say  "  — 

I  heard  his  last  "  say  "  just  as  I  got  out  of  hearin'  of 
him. 

He  acted  kinder  disappointed  at  dinner-time,  and  said 
"  he  wus  tired  of  watchin',  and  tired  out  of  bein'  good ; " 
and  he  wus  considerable  cross  all  that  afternoon.  But 
he  got  clever  agin  before  bedtime.  And  he  come  and 
leaned  up  aginst  my  lap  at  sundown,  and  asked  me,  I 
guess,  about  200  questions  about  the  City. 

And  his  eyes  looked  big  and  dreamy  and  soft,  and  his 
cheeks  looked  rosy,  and  his  mouth  awful  good  and  sweet. 
And  his  curls  wus  kinder  moist,  and  hung  down  over  his 
white  forehead.  I  did  love  him,  and  couldn't  help  it,  chin 
or  no  chin. 

He  had  been  still  for  quite  a  spell,  a  thinkin' ;  and  at 
last  he  broke  out,  — 

"  Say,  auntie,  shall  I  see  my  father  there  in  the  City  ?  " 

And  I  didn't  know  what  to  tell  him ;  for  you  know  what 
it  says,  — 

"  Without  are  murderers." 

But  then,  agin,  I  thought,  what  will  become  of  the 
respectable  church  members  who  sell  the  fire  that  flames 
up  in  a  man's  soul,  and  ruins  his  life  ?  What  will  become 
of  them  who  lend  their  votes  and  their  influence  to  make 
it  right?  They  vote  on  Saturdays,  to  make  the  sale  of 
this  poison  legal,  and  on  Sundays  go  to  church  with  their 


170 


SWEET  CICELY. 


respectable  families.      And   they  expect  to  go   right   to 
heaven,  of  course ;  for  they  have  improved  all  the  means 


ASKING   ABOUT  THE  CITY. 


of  grace.  Hired  costly  pews,  and  give  big  charities  —  in 
money  obtained  by  sellin'  robberies,  murders,  broken 
hearts,  ruined  lives. 


SWEET  CICELY.  171 

But  the  boy  wanted  an  answer;  and  his  eyes  looked 
questioning  but  soft. 

"  Say,  auntie,  do  you  think  we'll  find  him  there,  mamma 
and  I  ?  You  know,  that  is  what  mamma  cries  so  for,  — 
she  wants  him  so  bad.  And  do  you  think  he  will  stand 
just  inside  the  gate,  waiting  for  us  ?  Say  I " 

But  agin  I  thought  of  what  it  said,  — 

"No  drunkard  shall  inherit  eternal  life." 

And  agin  I  didn't  know  what  to  say,  and  I  hurried  him 
off  to  bed. 

But,  after  he  had  gone,  T  spoke  out  entirely  unbeknown 
to  myself,  and  says,  — 

"  I  can't  see  through  it." 

"  You  can't  see  through  what  ? "  says  Josiah,  who  wus 
jest  a  comin'  in. 

"  I  can't  see  through  it,  why  drunkards  and  murderers 
are  punished,  and  them  that  make  'em  drink  and  murder 
go  free.  I  can't  see  through  it." 

"  Wall,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  see  through  any  thing 
here — dark  as  pitch."  Here  he  fell  over  a  stool,  which 
made  him  madder. 

"  Folks  make  fools  of  themselves,  a  follerin'  up  that  sub 
ject."  Here  he  stubbed  his  foot  aginst  the  rockin '-chair, 
and  most  fell,  and  snapped  out  enough  to  take  my  head 
off, — 

"  The  dumb  fools  will  get  so  before  long,  that  a  man 
can't  drink  milk  porridge  without  their  prayiii'  over  him." 

Says  I,  "  Be  calm  !  stand  right  still  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  Josiah  Allen,  and  I'll  light  a  lamp,"  which  I  did ; 
and  he  sot  down  cleverer,  though  he  says,  — 

"  You  want   to    take    away  all   the  rights   of  a   man. 


172  SWEET  CICELY. 

Liquor  is  good  for  sickness,  and  you  know  it.  You  go 
onto  extremes,  you  go  too  fur." 

Says  I  calmly,  "  Do  you  s'pose^  at  this  late  hour,  I  am 
goin'  to  stop  bein'  mejum  ?  No  !  mejum  have  I  lived,  and 
mejum  will  I  die.  I  believe  liquor  is  good  for  medicine : 
if  I  should  say  I  didn't,  I  should  be  a  lyin',  which  I  am 
fur  from  wan  tin'  to  do  at  my  age.  I  think  it  kep'  mother 
Allen  alive  for  years,  jest  as  I  believe  arsenic  broke  up 
Bildad  Smith's  chills.  And  I  s'pose  folks  have  jest  as 
good  a  right  to  use  it  for  the  benefit  of  their  health, 
as  to  use  any  other  pizen,  or  fire,  or  any  thing. 

"And  it  should  be  used  jest  like  pizen  and  fire  and 
etcetery.  You  don't  want  to  eat  pizen  for  a  treat,  or  pass 
it  round  amongst  your  friends.  You  don't  want  to  play 
with  fire  for  fun,  or  burn  yourself  up  with  it.  You  don't 
want  to  use  it  to  confligrate  yourself  or  anybody  else. 

"So  with  liquor.  You  don't  want  to  drink  liquor  to 
kill  yourself  with,  or  to  kill  other  folks.  You  don't  want 
to  inebriate  with  it.  If  I  had  my  way,  Josiah  Allen," 
says  I  firmly,  uthe  hull  liquor-trade  should  be  in  the 
hands  of  doctors,  who  wouldn't  sell  a  drop  without  know- 
in'  positive  that  it  wus  needed  for  sickness,  or  the  aged 
and  infirm.  Good,  honest  doctors  who  couldn't  be  bought 
nor  sold." 

"  Where  would  you  find  'em  ? "  says  Josiah  in  a  gruff 
tone  (I  mistrust  his  toe  pained  him). 

Says  I -thoughtfully,  "Surely  there  is  one  good,  reliable 
man  left  in  every  town  —  that  could  be  found." 

"  I  don't  know  about  it,"  says  he,  sort  o'  musin'ly.  "  I 
am  gettin'  pretty  old  to  begin  it,  but  I  don't  know  but 
I  might  get  to  be  a  doctor  now." 


SWEET  CICELY.  173 

Says  he,  brighteniii'  up,  "  It  can't  take  much  study  to 
deal  out  a  dose  of  salts  now  and  then,  or  count  anybody's 
pult." 

But  says  I  firmly,  "  Give  up  that  idee  at  once,  Josiah 
Allen.  I  have  come  out  alive,  out  of  all  your  other  plans 
and  progects,  and  I  hain't  a  goin'  to  be  killed  now  at  my 
age,  by  you  as  a  doctor." 

My  tone  wus  so  powerful,  and  even  skairful,  that  he  gin 
up  the  idee,  and  wound  up  the  clock,  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CICELY  wus  some  better  the  next  day.  And  two  days 
before  we  sot  sail  for  Washington,  Philury  Mesick,  the 
girl  Ury  was  payin'  attention  to,  and  who  was  goin'  to 
keep  my  house  durin'  my  absence  on  my  tower,  come  with 
a  small,  a  very  small  trunk,  ornimented  with  brass  nails. 

Poor  little  thing  !  I  wus  always  sorry  for  her,  she  is  so 
little,  and  so  freckled,  and  so  awful  willin'  to  do  jest  as 
anybody  wants  her  to.  She  is  a  girl  that  Miss  Solomon 
Gowdey  kinder  took.  And  I  think,  if  there  is  any  condi 
tion  that  is  hard,  it  is  to  be  "  kinder  took."  Why,  if  I 
was  took  at  all,  I  should  want  to  be  "  took" 

But  Miss  Gowdey  took  Philury  jest  enough  not  to  pay 
her  any  regular  wages,  and  didn't  take  her  enough  so 
Philury  could  collect  any  pay  from  her  when  she  left. 
She  left,  because  there  wus  a  hardness  between  'em,  on 
account  of  a  grindstun.  Philury  said  Miss  Gowdey's  little 
boy  broke  the  grindstun,  and  the  boy  laid  it  to  Philury. 
Anyway,  the  grindstun  wus  broke,  and  it  made  a  hardness. 
And  when  Philury  left  Miss  Gowdey's,  all  her  worldly 
wealth  wuz  held  in  that  poor,  pitiful  lookin'  trunk.  Why, 
the  trunk  looked  like  Philury,  and  Philury  looked  like  the 
trunk.  It  looked  small,  and  meek,  and  well  disposed  ;  and 
the  brass  nails  looked  "some  like  frecks,  only  larger. 

174 


SWEET  CICELY. 


175 


Wall,  I  felt  sorry  for  her :  and  I  s'posed,  that,  married 
or  single,  she  would  have  to  wear 
stockin's  ;  so  I  told  her,  that,  be 
sides  her  wages,  she  might  have 
all  the  lamb's  -  wool  yarn  she 
wanted  to  spin  while  I  was  gone, 
after  doin'  the  house-work. 

She  wus  tickled  enough  as  I 
told  her. 

"Why,"  says  she,  "I  can  spin 
enough  to  last  me  for  years  and 
years." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  so  much  the 
better.  I  have  mistrusted,"  says 
I,  "that  Miss  Go wdey  wouldn't  do 
much  for  you  on  account  of  that 
hardness  about  the  grindstun  ;  and 
.knowin'  that  you  hain't  got  no 
mother,  I  have  laid  out  to  do 
middlin'  well  by  you  and  Ury 
when  you  get  married." 

And  she  blushed,  and  said  "  she 
expected  to  marry  Ury  sometime 
-  years  and  years  hence." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  you  can  spin 
the  yarn  anyway." 

Philury  is  a   real   handy  little 
thing  about  the  house.     And  so 
willin'  and  clever,  that  I  guess,  if 
I  had  asked  her  to  jump  into  the  oven,  and  bake  herself, 
she  would  have  done  it.     And  so  I  told  Josiah. 


PHILURY. 


176  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  he  said  "  he  thought  a  little  more  bakin'  wouldn't 
hurt  her."  Says  he,  "  She  is  pretty  soft." 

And  says  I,  "  Soft  or  not,  she's  good.  And  that  is  more 
than  I  can  say  for  some  folks,  who  think  they  know  a  little 
more." 

I  will  stand  up  for  my  sect. 

Wall,  in  three  days'  time  we  sot  sail  for  Washington, 
D.C.,  I  a  feelin'  well  about  Josiah.  For  Philury  and  Ury 
wus  clever,  and  would  do  well  by  him.  And  the  cubbard 
wus  full  and  overflowin'  with  every  thing  good  to  eat. 
And  I  felt  that  I  had  indeed,  in  that  cubbard,  left  him  a 
consoler. 

Josiah  took  us  to  the  train  about  an  hour  and  a  half  too 
early.  But  I  wus  glad  we  wus  on  time,  because  it  would 
have  worked  Josiah  up  dretfully  if  we  hadn't  been.  For 
he  had  spent  the  most  of  the  latter  part  of  the  night  in 
gettin'  up  and  walkin'  out  to  the  clock  to  see  if  it  wus 
approachin'  train  time  :  the  train  left  at  a  quarter  to 
ten. 

I  wus  glad  on  his  account,  and  also  on  my  own ;  for  at 
the  last  minute,  as  you  may  say,  who  should  come  a  run- 
nin'  down  to  the  depot  but  Sam  Shelmadine,  a  wantin'  to 
send  a  errent  by  me  to  Washington. 

He  kinder  wunk  me  out  to  one  side  of  the  waitin'-room, 
and  asked  me  "  if  I  would  try  to  get  him  a  license  to  steal 
horses." 

It  kinder  runs  in  the  blood  of  the  Shelmadines  to  love 
to  steal,  and  he  owned  up  that  it  did.  But  he  wuzn't  goin' 
into  it  for  that,  he  said :  he  wanted  the  profit  of  it. 

But  I  told  him  "  I  wouldn't  do  any  such  thing ; "  and  I 
looked  at  him  in  such  a  witherin'  way,  that  I  should  most 


SWEET  CICELY.  177 

probable  have  withered  him,  only  he  is  blind  with  one 
eye,  and  I  was  on  the  blind  side. 

But  he  argued  with  me,  and  said  it  was  no  worse  than 
to  give  licenses  for  other  kinds  of  meanness. 

He  said  they  give  licenses  now  to  steal  —  steal  folks'es 
senses  away,  and  then  they  would  steal  every  thing  else, 
and  murder,  and  tear  round  into  every  kind  of  wickedness. 
But  he  didn't  ask  that.  He  wanted  things  done  fair  and 
square :  he  jest  wanted  to  steal  horses.  He  was  goin' 
West,  and  he  thought  he  could  do  a  good  business,  and  lay 
up  something.  If  he  had  a  license,  he  shouldn't  be  afraid 
of  bein'  shot  up,  or  shot. 

But  I  refused  the  job  with  scorn ;  and  jest  as  I  wus 
refusin',  the  cars  snorted,  and  I  wus  glad  they  did.  They 
seemed  to  express  in  that  wild  snort  something  of  the 
indignation  I  felt. 

The  idee. 

When  Cicely  and  the  boy  and  I  got  to  Washington,  the 
shades  of  twilight  was  a  shadiu  the  earth  gently ;  and  we 
got  a  man  to  take  us  to  Condelick  Smith'ses. 

The  man  was  in  a  hack,  as  Cicely  called  it  (and  he  had 
a  hackin'  cough,  too,  which  made  it  seem  more  singular). 
We  told  him  to  take  us  right  to  Miss  Condelick  Smith'ses. 
Condelick  is  my  own  cousin  on  my  own  side,  and  traveliii' 
on  the  road  for  groceries. 

She  keeps  a  nice,  quiet  boardin'-house.  Only  a  few 
boarders,  "with  the  comforts  of  a  home,  and  congenial 
society,"  as  she  wrote  to  me  when  she  heard  I  wus  a 
comin'  to  Washington.  She  said  we  had  got  to  go  to  her 
house ;  so  we  went,  with  the  distinct  knowledge  in  our 
minds  and  pocket-books,  of  payin'  for  our  3  boards. 


178  SWEET  CICELY. 

She  was  very  tickled  to  see  us,  and  embraced  us  almost 
warmly.  She  had  been  ov.er  a  hot  fire  a  cookin'.  She  is 
humbly,  but  likely,  I  have  been  told  and  believe. 

She  has  got  a  wen  on  her  cheek,  but  that  don't  hurt  her 
any.  Wens  hain't  nothin'  that  detract  from  a  person's 
moral  worth. 

There  is  only  one  child  in  the  family,  —  Condelick,  Jr., 
aged  13.  A  good,  fat  boy,  with  white  hair  and  blue  eyes, 
and  a  great  capacity  for  blushin',  but  seemed  to  be  good 
dispositioned. 

It  wus  late  supper  time ;  and  we  had  only  time  to  go 
up  into  our  rooms,  and  bathe  our  weary  faces  arid  hands, 
when  we  had  to  go  down  to  supper. 

Miss  Condelick  Smith  called  it  dinner :  she  misspoke 
herself.  Havin'  so  much  on  her  hands,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  she  should  make  a  slip  once  in  a  while.  I  should, 
myself,  if  my  mind  wuzn't  like  iron  for  strength.  There 
wus  only  three  or  four  to  the  table  besides  us:  it  wuz 
later  than  their-  usial  supper  time.  There  wus  a  young 
couple  there  who  had  jest  been  married,  and  come  there 
to  live. 

Ever  sense  we  left  home  we  had  seen  sights  and  sights 
of  brides  and  groomses.  It  seemed  to  be  a  good  time  of 
year  for  'em ;  and  Cicely  and  I  would  pass  the  time  by 
guessin',  from  their  demeaners,  how  long  they  had  been 
married.  You  know  they  act  very  soft  the  first  day  or 
two,  and  then  harden  gradually,  as  time  passes,  till  some 
times  they  get  very  hard. 

Wall,  as  I  looked  at  this  young  pair,  I  whispered  to 
Cicely,  — 

"  2  days." 


SWEET  CICELY.  179 

They  acted  well.  Though  I  see  with  pain  that  the 
bride  was  tryin'  to  foller  after  the  groom  blindly,  and  I 
see  she  was  a  layin'  up  trouble  for  herself.  Amongst 
other  good  things,  they  had  a  baked  chicken  for  supper ; 
and  when  the  young  husband  wus  asked  what  part  of  the 
fowl  he  would  take,  he  said,  — 

"  It  was  immaterial !  " 

And  then,  when  they  asked  the  bride,  she  blushed 
sweetly,  and  said, — 

"  She  would  take  a  piece  of  the  immaterial  too." 

And  she  bein'  next  to  me,  I  said  to  her  in  a  low  tone, 
but  firm  and  motherly,  — 

"  You  are  a  beginner  in  married  life ;  and  I  say  to 
you,  as  one  who  has  had  stiddy  practice  for  20  years, 
begin  right.  Let  your  affections  be  firm  as  adamant,  cling 
closely  to  Duty's  apron-strings,  but  do  not  too  blindly 
copy  after  your  groom.  Try  to  stand  up  on  your  own 
feet,  and  be  a  helpmate  to  him,  not  a  dead  weight  for  him 
to  carry.  Do  branch  right  out,  and  tell  what  part  of  the 
fowl,  or  of  life,  you  want,  if  it  hain't  nothin'  but  the  giz 
zard  or  neck ;  and  then  try  to  get  it.  If  you  don't  have 
any  self-reliance,  if  you  don't  try  to  help  yourself  any, 
it  is  highly  probable  to  me,  that  you  won't  get  any  thing 
more  out  of  the  fowl,  or  of  life,  than  a  piece  of  'the 
immaterial.' " 

She  blushed,  and  said  she  would.  And  so  Duty  bein' 
appeased,  and  attended  to,  I  calmly  pursued  my  own 
meal. 

The  next  morning  Cicely  was  so  beat  out  that  she 
couldn't  get  up  at  all.  She  wuzn't  sick,  only  jest  tired 
out.  And  so  the  boy  and  I  sot  out  alone. 


180 


SWEET  CICELY. 


I  told  Cicely  I  would  do  my  errents  the  first  thing,  so 
as  to  leave  my  mind  and  my  conscience  clear  for  the  rest 
of  my  stay. 

And  I  knew  there  wuz  a  good  many  who  would  feel 


SAMANTHA  ADVISING   THE   BRIDE. 


hurt,  deeply  hurt,  if  I  didn't  notice  'em  right  off  the  first 
thing.  The  President,  and  lots  of  'em,  I  knew  would 
take  it  right  to  heart,  and  feel  dretfully  worked  up  and 
slighted,  if  I  didn't  call  on  'em. 

And  then,  I  had  to  carry  Dorlesky's  errent  to  the  Presi- 


SWEET  CICELY.  181 

4 

dent  anyway.  And  I  thought  I  would  tend  to  it  right 
away,  so  I  sot  out  in  good  season. 

When  you  are  a  noticin'  anybody,  and  makin'  'em  per 
fectly  happy,  you  feel  well  yourself.  I  was  in  good  spirits, 
and  quite  a  number  of  'em.  The  boy  wus  feelin'  well 
too.  He  had  a  little  black  velvet  suit  and  a  deep  lace 
collar,  and  his  -gold  curls  was  a  hangin'  down  under  his 
little  black  velvet  cap.  They  made  him  look  more  baby 
ish  ;  but  I  believe  Cicely  kept  'em  so  to  make  him  look 
young,  she  felt  so  dubersome  about  his  future.  But  he 
looked  sweet  enough  to  kiss  right  there  in  the  street. 

I,  too,  looked  well,  very.  I  had  on  that  new  dress,  Bis- 
mark  brown,  the  color  remindin'  me  of  2  noble  patriots. 
And  made  by  a  Martha.  I  thought  of  that  proudly,  as  I 
looked  at  George's  benign  face  on  the  top  of  the  monu 
ment,  and  wondered  what  he'd  say  if  he  see  it,  and  hefted 
my  emotions  I  had  when  causin'  it  to  be  made  for  my 
tower.  I  realized  as  I  meandered  along,  that  patriotism 
wus  enwrappin'  me  from  head  to  foot ;  for  my  polynay 
was  long,  and  my  head  was  completely  full  of  Gass'es 
"Journal,"  and  Starks'es  "Life  of  Washington,"  and  a 
few  martyrs. 

I  wus  carry  in'  Dorlesky's  errents. 

On  the  outside  of  my  head  I  had  a  good  honorable 
shirred  silk  bunnet,  the  color  of  my  dress,  a  good  solid 
brown  (that  same  color,  B.  B.).  And  my  usial  long  green 
veil,  with  a  lute-string  ribbon  run  in,  hung  down  on  one 
side  of  my  bunnet  in  its  wonted  way. 

It  hung  gracefully,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  me  there  wus 
both  dignity  and  principle  in  its  hang.  It  give  me  a  sort 
of  a  dressy  look,  but  none  too  dressy. 


182 


SWEET  CICELY. 


And  so  we  wended  our  way  down  the  broad,  beautiful 

streets  towards  the  White  House. 

Handsomer  streets  I  never  see.     I  had  thought  Jones- 

ville  streets  wus  middlin'  handsome   and   roomy.     Why, 

two  double  wagons 
can  go  by  each 
other  with  perfect 
safety,  right  in 
front  of  the  grocery 
stores,  where  there 
is  lots  of  boxes  too  ; 
and  wimmen  can  be 
a  walkin'  there  too 
at  the  same  time, 
hefty  ones. 

But,  good  land ! 
Loads  of  hay  could 
pass  each  other 
here,  and  droves  of 
dromedaries,  and 
camels,  and  not 
touch  each  other, 
and  then  there' 
would  be  lots  of 
room  for  men  and 
whnmen,  and  for 

wagons  to  rumble,  and  perioguers  to  float  up  and  down 

—  if  perioguers  could  sail  on  dry  land. 

Roomier,  handsomer,  well  shadeder  streets  I  never  want 

to  see,  nor  don't  expect  to.     Why,  Jonesville  streets  are 

like  tape  compared  with  'em ;  and  Loontown  and  Toad 

Holler,  they  are  like  thread,  No.  50  (allegory). 


SAMANTHA  AND   PAUL   ON  THE   WAY  TO 
THE  WHITE   HOUSE. 


SWEET  CICELY.  183 

Bub  Smith  wus  well  acquainted  with  the  President's 
hired  man,  so  he  let  us  in  without  parlay. 

I  don't  believe  in  talkin  big  as  a  general  thing.  But 
thiriks'es  I,  Here  I  be,  a  holdin'  up  the  dignity  of  Jones- 
ville  :  and  here  I  be,  on  a  deep,  heart-searchin'  errent  to 
the  Nation.  So  I  said,  in  words  and  axents  a  good  deal 
like  them  I  have  read  of  in  "  Children  of  the  Abbey,"  and 
"  Charlotte  Temple,"  — 

"  Is  the  President  of  the  United  States  within  ?  " 

He  said  he  was,  but  said  sunthin'  about  his  not  receiv 
ing  calls  in  the  mornings. 

But  I  says  in  a  very  polite  way,  —  for  I  like  to  put 
folks  at  their  ease,  presidents  or  peddlers  or  any  thing,  — 

"  It  hain't  no  matter  at  all  if  he  hain't  dressed  up  —  of 
course  he  wuzn't  expectin'  company.  Josiah  don't  dress 
up  mornin's." 

And  then  he  says  something  about  "he  didn't  know  but 
he  was  engaged." 

Says  I,  "That  hain't  no  news  to  me,  nor  the  Nation. 
We  have  been  a  hearin'  that  for  three  years,  right  along. 
And  if  he  is  engaged,  it  hain't  no  good  reason  why  he 
shouldn't  speak  to  other  wimmen,  — good,  honorable  marr 
ried  ones  too." 

"  Well,"  says  he  finally,  "  I  will  take  up  your  card." 

"  No,  you  won't !  "  says  I  firmly.  "  I  am  a  Methodist ! 
I  guess  I  can  start  off  on  a  short  tower,  without  takin'  a 
pack  of  cards  with  me.  And  if  I  had  'em  right  here  in 
my  pocket,  or  a  set  of  dominoes,  I  shouldn't  expect  to 
take  up  the  time  of  the  President  of  the  United  States  a 
playin'  games  at  this  time  of  the  day."  Says  I  in  deep 
tones,  "I  am  a  carrien'  errents  to  the  President  that  the 
world  knows  not  of." 


184  SWEET  CICELY. 

He  blushed  up  red ;  he  was  ashamed ;  and  he  said  "  he 
would  see  if  I  could  be  admitted." 

And  he  led  the  way  along,  and  I  follered,  and  the  boy. 
Bub  Smith  had  left  us  at  the  door. 

The  hired  man  seemed  to  think  I  would  want  to  look 
round  some  ;  and  he  walked  sort  o'  slow,  out*  of  courtesy. 
But,  good  land !  how  little  that  hired  man  knew  my  feel- 
in's,  as  he  led  me  on,  I  a  thinkin'  to  myself,  — 

"  Here  I  am,  a  steppin'  where  G.  Washington  strode." 
Oh  the  grandeur  of  my  feelin's  !  The  nobility  of  'em  !  and 
the  quantity  !  Why,  it  was  a  perfect  sight. 

But  right  into  these  exalted  sentiments  the  hired  man  in 
truded  with  his  frivolous  remarks,  — worse  than  frivolous. 

He  says  agin  something  about  "not  knowin'  whether 
the  President  would  be  ready  to  receive  me." 

And  I  stepped  down  sudden  from  that  lofty  piller  I  had 
trod  on  in  my  mind,  and  says  I,  — 

"  I  tell  you  agin,  I  don't  care  whether  he  is  dressed  up 
or  not.  I  come  on  principle,  and  I  shall  look  at  him 
through  that  eye,  and  no  other." 

"Wall,"  says  he,  turnin'  sort  o'  red  agin  (he  was 
ashamed),  "  have  you  noticed  the  beauty  of  the  didos  ?  " 

But  I  kep'  my  head  right  up  in  the  air  nobly,  and  never 
turned  to  the  right  or  the  left ;  and  says  I,  • — 

"  I  don't  see  no  beauty  in  cuttin'  up  didos,  nor  never 
did.  I  have  heard  that  they  did  such  things  here  in 
Washington,  D.C.,  but  I  do  not  choose  to  have  my  atten 
tion  drawed  to  'em." 

But  I  pondered  a  minute,  and  the  word  "  meetin'-house  " 
struck  a  fearful  blow  aginst  my  conscience  ;  and  I  says  in 
milder  axents,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  185 

"  If  I  looked  upon  a  dido  at  all,  it  would  be,  not  with  a 
human  woman's  eye,  but  the  eye  of  a  Methodist.  My 
duty  draws  me  :  —  point  out  the  dido,  and  I  will  look  at  it 
through  that  one  eye." 

And  he  says,  "  I  was  a  talkin'  about  the  walls  of  this 
room." 

And  I  says,  "Why  couldn't  you  say  so  in  the  first 
place  ?  The  idee  of  skairin'  folks  !  or  tryin'  to,"  I  added  ; 
for  I  hain't  easily  skairt. 

The  walls  wus  perfectly  beautiful,  and  so  wus  the  ceilin' 
and  floors.  There  wuzn't  a  house  in  Jonesville  that  could 
compare  with  it,  though  we  had  painted  our  meetin-house 
over  at  a  cost  of  upwards  of  28  dollars.  But  it  didn't 
come  up  to  this  —  not  half.  President  Arthur  has  got 
good  taste ;  and  I  thought  to  myself,  and  I  says  to  the 
hired  man,  as  I  looked  round  and  see  the  soft  richness  and 
quiet  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  surroundings,  — 

"  I  had  just  as  lives  have  him  pick  me  out  a  calico  dress 
as  to  pick  it  out  myself.  And  that  is  sayin'  a  great  deal," 
says  L.  "I  am  always  very  putickuler  in  calico  :  richness 
and  beauty  is  what  I  look  out  for,  and  wear." 

Jest  as  I  wus  sayin'  this,  the  hired  man  opened  a  door 
into  a  lofty,  beautiful  room  ;  and  says  he,  — 

"  Step  in  here,  madam,  into  the  antick  room,  and  I'll  see 
if  the  President  can  see  you  ;  "  and  he  started  off  sudden, 
bein'  called.  And  I  jest  turned  round  and  looked  after 
him,  for  I  wanted  to  enquire  into  it.  I  had  heard  of  their 
cuttin'  up  anticks  at  Washington,  —  I  had  come  prepared 
for  it ;  but  I  didn't  know  as  they  was  bold  enough  to  come 
right  out,  and  have  rooms  devoted  to  that  purpose.  And 
I  looked  all  round  the  room  before  I  ventured  in.  But 


186  SWEET  CICELY. 

it  looked  neat  as  a  pin,  and  not  a  soul  in  there  ;  and 
thinks'es  I,  "  It  hain't  probable  their  day  for  cuttin'  up 
anticks.  I  guess  I'll  venture."  So  I  went  in. 

But  I  sot  pretty  near  the  edge  of  the  chair,  ready  to 
jump  at  the  first  thing  I  didn't  like.  And  I  kep'  a  close 
holt  of  the  boy.  I  felt  that  I  was  right  in  the  midst  of 
dangers.  I  had  feared  and  foreboded,  —  oh,  how  I  had 
feared  and  foreboded  about  the  dangers  and  deep  perils  of 
Washington,  D.C. !  And  here  I  wuz,  the  very  first  thing, 
invited  right  in  broad  daylight,  with  no  excuse  or  any 
thing,  right  into  a  antick  room. 

Oh,  how  thankful,  how  thankful  I  wuz,  that  Josiah 
Allen  wuzn't  there ! 

I  knew,  as  he  felt  a  good  deal  of  the  time,  an  antick 
room  was  what  he  would  choose  out  of  all  others.  And  I 
felt  stronger  than  ever  the  deep  resolve  that  Josiah  Allen 
should  not  run.  He  must  not  be  exposed  to  such  dangers, 
with  his  mind  as  it  wuz,  and  his  heft.  I  felt  that  he  would 
suckumb. 

And  I  wondered  that  President  Arthur,  who  I  had 
always  heard  was  a  perfect  gentleman,  should  come  to 
have  a  room  called  like  that,  but  s'posed  it  was  there  when 
he  went.  I  don't  believe  he'd  countenance  any  thing  of 
the  kind. 

I  was  jest  a  thinkin'  this  when  the  hired  man  come  back, 
and  said,  — 

"  The  President  would  receive  me." 

"Wall,"  says  I  calmly,  "I  am  ready  to  be  received."' 

So  I  follered  him ;  and  he  led  the  way  into  a  beautiful 
room,  kinder  round,  and  red  colored,  with  lots  of  elegant 
pictures  and  lookin'-glasses  and  books. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


187 


The  President  sot  before  a  table  covered  with  books 
and  papers:  and,  good  land!  he  no  need  to  have  been 
afraid  and  hung  back ;  he  was  dressed  up  slick  —  slick 
enough  for  meetin',  or  a  parin'-bee,  or  any  thing.  He  had 
on  a  sort  of  a  gray  suit,  and  a  rose-bud  in  his  button-hole. 

He  was  a  good-lookin'  man,  though  he  had  a  middlin' 
tired   look   in   his    kinder 
brown  eyes  as   he   looked 
up. 

I  had  calculated  to  act 
noble  on  that  occasion,  as 
I  appeared  before  him  who 
stood  in  the  large,  lofty 
shoes  of  the  revered  G.  W., 
and  sot  in  the  chair  of  the 
(nearly)  angel  Garfield. 
I  had  thought  that  likely 
as  not,  entirely  unbeknown 
to  me,  I  should  soar  right 
off  into  a  eloquent  oration. 
For  I  honored  him  as  a 
President.  I  felt  like 
neighborin'  with  him  on 
account  of  his  name  — 

Allen !     (That  name  I  took  at  the  alter  of  Jonesville,  and 
pure  love.) 

But  how  little  can  we  calculate  on  future  contingencies, 
or  what  we  shall  do  when  we  get  there  !  As  I  stood  be 
fore  him,  I  only  said  what  I  had  said  before  on  a  similar 
occasion,  these  simple  words,  that  yet  mean  so  much,  so 
much,  — 


SAMANT1IA   MEETING    THE 
PRESIDENT. 


188  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  Allen,  I  have  come  !  " 

He,  too,  was  overcome  by  his  feelin's :  I  see  he  wuz. 
His  face  looked  fairly  solemn ;  but,  as  he  is  a  perfect  gen 
tleman,  he  controlled  himself,  and  said  quietly  these  words, 
that,  too,  have  a  deep  import,  — 

"  I  see  you  have." 

He  then  shook  hands  with  me,  and  I  with  him.  I,  too, 
am  a  perfect  lady.  And  then  he  drawed  up  a  chair  for 
me  with  his  own  hands  (hands  that  grip  holt  of  the  same 
•helium  that  G.  W.  had  gripped  holt  of.  O  soul !  be  calm 
when  I  think  ont),  and  asked  me  to  set  down ;  and  conse 
quently  I  sot. 

I  leaned  my  umberell  in  a  easy,  careless  position 
against  a  adjacent  chair,  adjusted  my  green  veil  in  long, 
graceful  folds,  —  I  hain't  vain,  but  I  like  to  look  well, — 
and  then  I  at  once  told  him  of  my  errents.  I  told  him  — 

"I  had  brought  three  errents  to  him  from  Jonesville, 
—  one  for  myself,  and  two  for  Dorlesky  Burpy." 

He  bowed,  but  didn't  say  nothin' :  he  looked  tired. 
Josiah  always  looks  tired  in  the  mornin'  when  he  has  got 
his  milkin'  and  barn-chores  done,  so  it  didn't  surprise  me. 
And  havin'  calculated  to  tackle  him  on  my  own  errent 
first,  consequently  I  tackled  him. 

I  told  him  how  deep  my  love  and  devotion  to  my  pard- 
ner  wuz. 

And  he  said,  "  he  had  heard  of  it." 

And  I  says,  "I  s'pose  so.  I  s'pose  such  things  will 
spread,  bein'  a  sort  of  a  rarity.  I'd  heard  that  it  had  got 
out,  way  bey  end  Loontown,  and  all  round." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  was  spoke  of  a  good  deal." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  the  cast-iron  love  and  devotion  I  feel 


SWEET   CICELY.  189 

for  that  man  don't  show  off  the  brightest  in  hours  of  joy 
and  peace.  It  towers  up  strongest  in  dangers  and  trou 
bles."  And  then  I  went  on  to  tell  him  how  Josiah  wanted 
to  come  there  as  senator,  and  what  a  dangerous  place  I 
had  always  heard  Washington  wuz,  and  how  I  had  felt  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  lay  down  on  my  goose-feather 
pillow  at  home,  in  peace  and  safety,  while  my  pardner  was 
a  grappliri'  with  dangers  of  which  I  did  not  know  the 
exact  size  and  heft.  And  so  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
come  ahead  of  him,  as  a  forerunner  on  a  tower,  to  see  jest 
what  the  dangers  wuz,  and  see  if  I  dast  trust  my  compan 
ion  there.  "And  now,"  says  I,  "I  want  you  to  tell  me 
candid,"  says  I.  "  Your  settin'  in  George  Washington's 
high  chair  makes  me  look  up  to  you.  It  is  a  sightly  place  ; 
you  can  see  fur :  your  name  bein'  Allen  makes  me  feel 
sort  o'  confidential  and  good  towards  you,  and  I  want  you 
to  talk  real  honest  and  candid  with  me."  Says  I  solemnly, 
"I  ask  you,  Allen,  not  as  a  politician,  but  as  a  human 
bein',  would  you  dast  to  let  Josiah  come  ?  " 

Says  he,  "  The  danger  to  the  man  and  the  nation  de 
pends  a  good  deal  on  what  sort  of  a  man  it  is  that  comes." 

Then  was  a  tryin'  time  for  me.  I  would  not  lie,  neither 
would  I  brook  one  word  against  my  companion,  even  from 
myself.  So  I  says,  — 

"  He  is  a  man  that  has  traits  and  qualities,  and  sights 
of  'em." 

But  thinkin'  that  I  must  do  so,  if  I  got  true  informa 
tion  of  dangers,  I  went  on,  and  told  of  Josiah's  political 
aims,  which  I  considered  dangerous  to  himself  and  the 
nation.  And  I  told  him  of  The  Plan,  and  my  dark  fore- 
bodin's  about  it. 


190  SWEET  CICELY. 

The  President  didn't  act  surprised  a  mite.  And  finally 
he  told  me,  what  I  had  always  mistrusted,  but  never 
knew,  that  Josiah  had  wrote  to  him  all  his  political  views 
and  aspirations,  and  offered  his  help  to  the  Government. 
And  says  he,  "I  think  I  know  all  about  the  man." 

"  Then,"  says  I,  "  you  see  he  is  a  good  deal  like  other 
men." 

And  he  said,  sort  o'  dreamily,  "  that  he  was." 

And  then  agin  silence  rained.  He  was  a  thinkin',  I 
knew,  on  all  the  deep  dangers  that  hedged  in  Josiah  Allen 
and  America  if  he  come.  And  a  musin'  on  all  the  prob 
able  dangers  of  the  Plan.  And  a  thinkin'  it  over  how  to 
do  jest  right  in  the  matter,  —  right  by  Josiah,  right  by 
the  nation,  right  by  me. 

Finally  the  suspense  of  the  moment  wore  onto  me  too 
deep  to  bear,  and  I  says  in  almost  harrowin'  tones  of 
anxiety  and  suspense, — 

"  Would  it  be  safe  for  my  pardner  to  come  to  Washing 
ton  ?  Would  it  be  safe  for  Josiah,  safe  for  the  nation  ?  " 
Says  I,  in  deeper,  mournfuler  tones,  — 

"  Would  you  — would  you  dast  to  let  him  come  ?  " 

He  said,  sort  o'  dreamily,  "  that  those  views  and  aspira 
tions  of  Josiah's  wasn't  really  needed  at  Washington,  they 
had  plenty  of  them  there  ;  and  "  — 

But  I  says,  "  I  must  have  a  plainer  answer  to  ease  my 
mind  and  heart.  Do  tell  me  plain,  —  would  you  dast  ?  " 

He  looked  full  at  me.  He  has  got  good,  honest-looking 
eyes,  and  a  sensible,  candid  look  onto  him.  He  liked  me, 
—  I  knew  he  did  from  his  looks,  —  a  calm,  Methodist- 
Episcopal  likin',  —  nothin'  light. 

And  I  see  in  them  eyes  that  he  didn't  like   Josiah's 


SWEET  CICELY. 


191 


political  idees.  I  see  that  he  was  afraid,  as  afraid  as  death 
of  that  plan ;  and  I  see  that  he  considered  Washington  a 
dangerous,  dangerous  place  for  grangers  and  Josiah  Aliens 
to  be  a  roamin'  round  in.  I  could  see  that  he  dreaded 


WOULD   YOU   DAST? 


the  sufferings  for  me  and  for  the  nation  if  the  Hon.  Josiah 
Allen  was  elected. 

But  still,  he  seemed  to  hate  to  speak ;  and  wise,  cau 
tious  conservatism,  and  gentlemanly  dignity,  was  wrote 
down  on  his  linement.  Even  the  red  rosebud  in  his  but 
ton-hole  looked  dretful  good-natured,  but  close-mouthed. 


192  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  don't  know  as  he  would  have  spoke  at  all  agin,  if 
I  hadn't  uttered  once  more  them  soul-harrowin'  words, 
"  Would  you  dast?" 

Pity  and  good  feelin'  then  seemed  to  overpower  for  a 
moment  the  statesman  and  courteous  diplomat. 

And  he  said  in  gentle,  gracious  tones,  "If  I  tell  you 
just  what  I  think,  I  would  not  like  to  say  it  officially,  but 
would  say  it  in  confidence,  as  from  an  Allen  to  an  Allen." 

Says  I,  "  It  sha'n't  go  no  further." 

And  so  I  would  warn  everybody  that  it  must  not  be 
told. 

Then  says  he,  "I  will  tell  you.     I  wouldn't  dast." 

Says  I,  "  That  settles  it.  If  human  efforts  can  avail, 
Josiah  Allen  will  not  be  United-States  senator."  And 
says  I,  "  You  have  only  confirmed  my  fears.  I  knew, 
feelin'  as  he  felt,  that  it  wuzn't  safe  for  Josiah  or  the 
nation  to  have  him  come." 

Agin  he  reminded  me  that  it  was  told  to  me  in  confi 
dence,  and  agin  I  want  to  say  that  it  must  be  kep'. 

I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness.  He  is  a  perfect  gentle 
man  ;  and  he  told  me  jest  out  of  courtesy  and  politeness, 
and  I  know  it.  And  I  can  be  very  polite  too.  And  I  am 
naturally  one  of  the  kindest-hearted  of  Jonesvillians. 

So  I  says  to  him,  "  I  won't  forget  your  kindness  to  me ; 
and  I  want  to  say  right  here,  that  Josiah  and  me  both 
think  well  on  you  —  first-rate." 

Says  he  with  a  sort  of  a  tired  look,  as  if  he  wus  a  look- 
in'  back  over  a  hard  road,  "  I  have  honestly  tried  to  do 
the  best  I  could." 

Says  I,  "  I  believe  it."  And  waiitin'  to  encourage  him 
still  more,  says  I,  — 


SWEET   CICELY.  193 

"Josiah  believes  it,  and  Dovlesky  Burpy,  and  lots  of 
other  Jonesvillians."  Says  I,  "To  set  down  in  a  chair 
that  an  angel  has  jest  vacated,  a  high  chair  under  the  full 
glare  of  critical  inspection,  is  a  tegus  place.  I  don't 
s'pose  Garfield  was  really  an  angel,  but  his  sufferin's  and 
martyrdom  placed  him  almost  in  that  light  before  the 
world. 

"  And  you  have  filled  that  chair,  and  filled  it  well. 
With  dignity  and  courtesy  and  prudence.  And  we  have 
been  proud  of  you,  Josiah  and  me  both  have." 

He  brightened  up :  he  had  been  afraid,  I  could  see,  that 
we  wuzn't  suited  with  him.  And  it  took  a  load  offen  him. 
His  linement  looked  clearer  than  it  had,  and  brighter. 

"  And  now,"  says  I,  sithin'  a  little,  "  I  have  got  to  do 
Dorlesky's  errents." 

He,  too,  sithed.  His  linement  fell.  I  pitied  him,  and 
would  gladly  have  refrained  from  troubling  him  more. 
But  duty  hunched  me;  and  when  she  hunches,  I  have  to 
move  forward. 

Says  I  in  measured  tones,  each  tone  measurin'  jest  about 
the  same,  —  half  duty,  and  half  pity  for  him,  — 

"Dorlesky  Burpy  sent  these  errents  to  you.  She 
wanted  intemperance  done  away  with  —  the  Whiskey  Ring 
broke  right  up.  She  wanted  you  to  drink  nothin'  stronger 
than  root-beer  when  you  had  company  to  dinner,  she  of- 
ferin'  to  send  you  a  receipt  for  it  from  Jonesville  ;  and  she 
wanted  her  rights,  and  she  wanted  'em  all  this  week  with 
out  fail." 

He  sithed  hard.  And  never  did  I  see  a  linement  fall 
further  than  his  linement  fell.  I  pitied  him.  I  see  it  wus 
a  hard  stent  for  him,  to  do  it  in  the  time  she  had  sot. 


194  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  I  says,  "  I  think  myself  that  Dorlesky  is  a  little 
onreasonable.  I  myself  am  willin'  to  wait  till  next  week. 
But  she  has  suffered  dretfully  from  intemperance,  dretfully 
from  the  Rings,  and  dretfully  from  want  of  Rights.  And 
her  sufferin's  have  made  her  more  voyalent  in  her  demands, 
and  impatienter." 

And  then  I  fairly  groaned  as  I  did  the  rest  of  the  errent. 
But  my  promise  weighed  on  me,  and  Duty  poked  me  in 
the  side.  I  wus  determined  to  do  the  errent  jest  as  I 
would  wish  a  errent  done  for  me,  from  borryin'  a  drawin' 
of  tea  to  tacklin'  the  nation,  and  tryin'  to  get  a  little  mess 
of  truth  and  justice  out  of  it. 

"  Dorlesky  told  me  to  tell  you  that  if  you  didn't  do  these 
things,  she  would  have  you  removed  from  the  Presidential 
chair,  and  you  should  never,  never,  be  President  agin." 

He  trembled,  he  trembled  like  a  popple-leaf.  And  I  felt 
as  if  I  should  sink :  it  seemed  to  me  jest  as  if  Dorlesky 
wus  askin'  too  much  of  him,  and  was  threatenin'  too 
hard. 

And  bein'  one  that  loves  truth,  I  told  him  that  Dor 
lesky  was  middlin'  disagreeable,  and  very  humbly,  but  she 
needed  her  rights  jest  as  much  as  if  she  was  a  dolly. 
And  then  I  went  on  and  told  him  all  how  she  and  her 
relations  had  suffered  from  want  of  rights,  and  how  dret 
fully  she  had  suffered  from  the  Ring,  till  I  declare,  a 
talkin  about  them  little  children  of  hern,  and  her  agony, 
I  got  about  as  fierce  actin'  as  Dorlesky  herself ;  and  en 
tirely  unbeknown  to  myself,  I  talked  powerful  on  intem 
perance  and  Rings  —  and  sound. 

When  I  got  down  agin  onto  my  feet,  I  see  he  had  a 
sort  of  a  worried,  anxious  look ;  and  he  says,  — 


SWEET   CICELY.  195 

"  The  laws  of  the  United  States  are  such,  that  I  can't 
interfere." 

"  Then,"  says  I,  "  why  don't  you  make  the  United 
States  do  right  ?  " 

And  he  said  somethin'  about  the  might  of  the  majority 
and  the  powerful  rings. 

And  that  sot  me  off  agin.  And  I  talked  very  power 
ful,  kinder  allegored,  about  allowin'  a  ring  to  be  put  round 
the  United  States,  and  let  a  lot  of  whiskey-dealers  lead 
her  round,  a  pitiful  sight  for  men  and  angels.  Says  I, 
"  How  does  it  look  before  the  Nations,  to  see  Columbia 
led  round  half  tipsy  by  a  Ring?" 

He  seemed  to  think  it  looked  bad,  I  knew  by  his 
looks. 

Says  I,  "  Intemperance  is  bad  for  Dorlesky,  and  bad  for 
the  Nation." 

He  murmured  somethin'  about  the  "  revenue  that  the 
liquor-trade  brought  to  the  Government." 

But  I  says,  "  Every  penny  they  give,  is  money  right  out 
of  the  people's  pockets ;  and  every  dollar  that  the  people 
pay  into  the  liquor-traffic,  that  they  may  give  a  few  cents 
of  it  into  the  Treasury,  is  costin'  the  people  three  times 
that  dollar,  in  the  loss  that  intemperance  entails,  —  loss 
of  labor,  by  the  inability  of  drunken  men  to  do  any  thing 
but  wobble  and  stagger  round ;  loss  of  wealth,  by  all  the 
enormous  losses  of  property  and  of  taxation,  of  almshouses 
and  madhouses,  jails,  police  forces,  paupers'  coffins,  and 
the  digging  of  the  thousands  and  thousands  of  graves  that 
are  filled  yearly  by  them  that  reel  into  'em."  Says  I, 
"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  for  the  people  to  pay  that  dollar 
in  the  first  place  into  the  Treasury,  than  to  let  it  filter 


196  SWEET  CICELY. 

through  the  dram-seller's  hands,  and  2  or  3  cents  of  it  fall 
into  the  National  purse  at  last,  putrid,  and  heavy  with  all 
these  losses  and  curses  and  crimes  arid  shames  and  de 
spairs  and  agonies  ?  " 

He  seemed  to  think  it  would :  I  see  by  the  looks  of  his 
linemerit,  he  did.  Every  honorable  man  feels  so  in  his 
heart ;  and  yet  they  let  the  liquor  ring  control  'em,  and 
lead  'em  round. 

Says  I,  "All  the  intellectual  and  moral  power  of  the 
United  States  are  jest  rolled  up  and  thrust  into  that 
Whiskey  Ring,  and  are  being  drove  by  the  whiskey-deal 
ers  jest  where  they  want  to  drive  'em."  Says  I,  "  It  con 
trols  New-York  village,  and  nobody  pretends  to  deny  it ; 
and  all  the  piety  and  philanthropy  and  culture  and  philosi- 
phy  of  that  village  has  to  be  jest  drawed  along  in  that 
Ring.  And,"  says  I,  in  low  but  startlin'  tones  of  prin 
ciple,  — 

"Where,  where,  is  it  a  drawin'  'em  to?  Where  is  it 
a  drawin'  the  hull  nation  to  ?  Is  it  a  drawin'  'em  down 
into  a  slavery  ten  times  more  abject  and  soul-destroyin' 
than  African  slavery  ever  was?  Tell  me,"  says  I  firmly, 
"  tell  me." 

His  mean  looked  impressed,  but  he  did  not  try  to  frame 
a  reply.  I  think  he  could  not  find  a  frame.  There  is  no 
frame  to  that  reply.  It  is  a  conundrum  as  boundless  as 
truth  and  God's  justice,  and  as  solemnly  deep  in  its  sure 
consequences  of  evil  as  eternity,  and  as  sure  to  come  as 
that  is. 

Agin  I  says,  "  Where  is  that  Ring  a  drawin'  the  United 
States  ?  Where  is  it  a  drawin'  Dorlesky  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Dorlesky !  "  says  he,  a  comin'  up  out  of  his  deep 


SWEET  CICELY.  197 

reveryin',.but  polite, — a  politer  demeanerd,  gentlemanly 
appeariner  man  I  don't  want  to  see.  "  Ah,  yes  !  I  would 
be  glad,  Josiah  Allen's  wife,  to  do  her  errent.  I  think 
Dorlesky  is  justified  in  asking  to  have  the  Ring  destroyed. 
But  I  am  not  the  one  to  go  to  —  I  am  not  the  one  to  do 
her  errent." 

Says  I,  "  Who  is  the  man,  or  men  ?  " 

Says  he,  "  James  G.  Elaine." 

Says  I,  "  Is  that  so  ?  I  will  go  right  to  James  G. 
Blaineses." 

So  I  spoke  to  the  boy.  He  had  been  all  engaged  lookin' 
out  of  the  winders,  but  he  was  willin'  to  go. 

And  the  President  took  the  boy  upon  his  knee,  wantin' 
to  do  something  agreeable,  I  s'pose,  seein'  he  couldn't  do 
the  errent.  And  he  says,  jest  to  make  himself  pleasant  to 
the  boy,  — 

"  Well,  my  little  man,  are  you  a  Republican,  or  Demo 
crat?" 

"  I  am  a  Epispocal." 

And  seein'  the  boy  seemed  to  be  headed  onto  theoligy 
instead  of  politics,  and  wantin'  to  kinder  show  him  off,  I 
says,  — 

"  Tell  the  gentleman  who  made  you." 

He  spoke  right  up  prompt,  as  if  hurry  in'  to  get  through 
theoligy,  so's  to  tackle  sun  thin'  else.  He  answered  as  ex 
haustively  as  an  exhauster  could  at  a  meetin',  — 

"I  was  made  out  of  dust,  and  breathed  into.  I  am 
made  out  of  God  and  dirt." 

Oh,  how  deep,  how  deep  that  child  is  !  I  never  had 
heard  him  say  that  before.  But  how  true  it  wuz  !  The 
divine  and  the  human,  linked  so  close  together  from  birth 


198 


SWEET  CICELY. 


till  death.     No  philosipher  that  ever  philosiphized  could 
go  deeper  or  higher. 

I  see  the  President  looked  impressed.     But   the   boy 


"I   AM   A   EPISPOCAL." 

branched  off  quick,  for  he  seemed  fairly  burstin'  with  ques 
tions. 

"  Say,  what  is  this  house  called  the  White  House  for  ? 
Is  it  because  it  is  to  help  white  folks,  and  not  help  the 
black  ones,  and  Injins  ?  " 


SWEET  CICELY.  199 

I  declare,  I  almost  thought  the  boy  had  heard  sunthin' 
about  the  elections  in  the  South,  and  the  Congressional 
vote  for  cuttin'  down  the  money  for  the  Indian  schools. 
Legislative  action  to  perpetuate  the  ignorance  and  bru 
tality  of  a  race. 

The  President  said  dreamily,  "  No,  it  wasn't  for  that." 

"  Well,  is  it  called  white  like  the  gate  of  the  City  is  ? 
Mamma  said  that  was  white,  —  a  pearl,  you  know,  — 
because  every  thing  was  pure  and  white  inside  the  City. 
Is  it  because  the  laws  that  are  made  here  are  all  white  and 
good  ?  And  say  "  — 

Here  his  eyes  looked  dark  and  big  with  excitement. 

uWhat  is  George  Washington  up  on  top  of  that  big 
white  piller  for  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  great  man." 

"  How  much  did  he  weigh  ?  How  many  yards  did  it 
take  for  his  vest  —  forty  ?  " 

"  He  did  great  and  noble  deeds  —  he  fought  and  bled." 

"  If  fighting  makes  folks  great,  why  did  mamma  punish 
me  when  I  fought  with  Jim  Gowdey  ?  He  stole  my  jack- 
knife,  and  knocked  me  down,  and  set  down  on  me,  and 
took  my  chewing-gum  away  from  me,  and  chewed  it  him 
self.  And  I  rose  against  him,  and  we  fought  and  bled : 
my  nose  bled,  and  so  did  his.  But  I  -got  it  away  from  him, 
and  chewed  it  myself.  But  mamma  punished  me,  and 
said  '  God  wouldn't  love  me  if  I  quarrelled  so,  and  if  we 
couldn't  agree,  we  must  get  somebody  to  settle  our  trouble 
for  us.'  Why  didn't  she  stand  me  up  on  a  big  white  pil 
low  out  in  the  door-yard,  and  be  proud  of  me,  and  not  shut 
me  up  in  a  dark  closet  ?  " 

"  He  fought  for  Liberty." 


200 


SWEET  CICELY. 


"Did  he  get  it?" 

"  He  fought  that  the  United  States  might  be  free." 

"Is  it  free?" 

The  President  waved  off  that  question,  and  the  boy  kep' 
on. 

"  Is  it  true  what  you  have  been  talkin'  about,  —  is  there 
a  great  big  ring  put  all  round  it,  and  is  it  bein'  drawed 
along  into  a  mean  place  ?  " 

And  then  the  boy's  eyes  grew  black  with  excitement ; 


WAR   DECLARED. 


and  he  kep'  right  on  without  waitin'  for  breath,  or  for  a 
answer,  — 

"  He  had  heard  it  talked  about,  was  it  right  to  let  any 
body  do  wrong  for  money?  Did  the  United  States  do  it ? 
Did  it  make  mean  things  right  ?  If  it  did,  he  wanted  to 
get  one  of  Tom  Gowdy's  white  rats.  He  wouldn't  sell  it, 
and  he  wanted  it.  His  mother  wouldn't  let  him  steal  it ; 
but  if  the  United  States  could  make  it  right  for  him  to  do 
wrong,  he  had  got  ten  cents  of  his  own,  and  he'd  buy  the 
right  to  get  that  white  rat.  And  if  Tom  wanted  to  cry 


SWEET  CICELY.  201 

about  it,  let  him.  If  the  United  States  sold  him  the  right 
to  do  it,  he  guessed  he  could  do  it,  no  matter  how  much 
whimperin'  there  was,  and  no  matter  who  said  it  was 
wrong.  He  wanted  the  rat." 

But  I  see  the  President's  eyes,  which  had  looked  kinder 
rested  when  he  took  him  up,  grew  bigger  and  bigger  with 
surprise  and  anxiety.  I  guess  he  thought  he  had  got  his 
day's  work  in  front  of  him.  And  I  told  the  boy  we  must 
go.  And  then  I  says  to  the.  President,  — 

"  That  I  knew  he  was  quite  a  traveller,  and  of  course  he 
wouldn't  want  to  die  without  seem'  Jonesville  ;  "  and  says 
I,  "Be  sure  to  come  to  our  house  to  supper  when  you 
come."  Says  I,  "  I  can't  reccomend  the  huntin'  so  much  ; 
there  haint  nothin'  more  excitin'  to  shoot  than  red  squirrels 
and  chipmunks :  but  there  is  quite  good  nshin'  in  the  creek 
back  of  our  house ;  they  ketched  4  horned  Asa's  there  last 
week,  and  lots  of  chubs." 

He  smiled  real  agreable,  and  said,  "when  he  visited 
Jonesville,  he  wouldn't  fail  .to  take  tea  with  me." 

Says  I,  "  So  do  ;  and,  if  you  get  lost,  you  jest  enquire  at 
the  Corners  of  old  Grout  Nickleson,  and  he  will  set  you 
right." 

He  smiled  agin,  and  said  uhe  wouldn'Jb  fail  to  enquire  if 
he  got  lost." 

And  then  I  shook  hands  with  him,  thinkin'  it  would  be 
expected  of  me  (his  hands  are  white,  and  not  much  big 
ger  than  Tirzah  Ann's).  And  then  I  removed  the  boy  by 
voyalence,  for  he  was  a  askin'  questions  agin,  faster  than 
ever ;  and  he  poured  out  over  his  shoulder  a  partin'  drib 
ble  of  questions,  that  lasted  till  we  got  outside.  And  then 
he  tackled  me,  and  he  asked  me  somewhere  in  the  neigh- 


202  SWEET  CICELY. 

borhood  of  a  1,000  questions  on  the  way  back  to  Miss 
Smiths'es. 

He  begun  agin  on  George  Washington  jest  as  quick  as 
he  ketched  sight  of  his  monument  agin. 

"  If  George  Washington  is  up  on  the  top  of  that  monu 
ment  for  tellin'  the  truth,  why  didn't  all  the  big  men 
try  to  tell  the  truth  so's  to  be  stood  up  on  pillows  out 
doors,  and  not  be  a  layin'  down  in  the  grass  ?  And  did 
the  little  hatchet  help  him  do  right?  If  it  did,  why  didn't 
all  the  big  men  wear  them  in  their  belts  to  do  right  with, 
and  tell  the  truth  with?  And  say  "  — 

Oh,  dear  me  suz !  He  asked  me  over  40  questions  to  a 
lamp-post,  for  I  counted  'em ;  and  there  wuz  18  posts. 

Good  land  !  I'd  ruther  wash  than  try  to  answer  him  ; 
but  he  looked  so  sweet  and  good-natured  and  confidin',  his 
eyes  danced  so,  and  he  was  so  awful  pretty,  that  I  felt  in 
the  midst  of  my  deep  fag,  that  I  could  kiss  him  right  there 
in  the  street  if  it  wuzn't  for  the  looks  of  it :  he  is  a  beauti 
ful  child,  and  very  deep. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

WALL,  after  dinner  I  sot  sail  for  James  G.  Blains'es,  a 
walkin'  afoot,  and  carryin'  Dorlesky's  errent.  I  was  deter 
mined  to  do  that  errent  before  I  slept.  I  am  very  obleegin', 
and  am  called  so. 

When  I  got  to  Mr.  Blains'es,  I  was  considerably  tired ; 
for  though  Dorlesky's  errent  might  not  be  heavy  as  weighed 
by  the  steelyards,  yet  it  was  very  hefty  and  wearin'  on  the 
moral  feelin's.  And  my  firm,  unalterable  determination 
to  carry  it  straight,  and  tend  to  it,  to  the  very  utmost  of 
my  ability,  strained  on  me. 

I  was  fagged. 

But  I  don't  believe  Mr.  Blaine  see  the  fag.  I  shook 
hands  with  him,  and  there  was  calmness  in  that  shake.  I 
passed  the  compliments  of  the  day  (how  do  you  do,  etc.), 
and  there  was  peace  and  dignity  in  them  compliments. 

He  was  most  probable,  glad  I  had  come.  But  he  didn't 
seem  quite  so  over-rejoiced  as  he  probable  would  if  he 
hadn't  been  so  busy.  /  can't  be  so  highly  tickled  when 
company  comes,  when  I  am  washin'  and  cleanin'  house. 

He  had  piles  and  piles  of  papers  on  the  table  before 
him.  And  there  was  a  gentleman  a  settiii'  at  the  end  of 
the  room  a  readin'. 

203 


204 


SWEET  CICELY. 


I  like  James  G.  Blaines'es  looks  middlin'  well.  Al 
though,  like  myself,  he  d6n't  set  up  for  a  professional 
beauty.  It  seems  as  if  some  of  the  strength  of  the  moun 
tain  pines  round  his  old  home  is  a  holdin'  up  his  backbone, 
and  some  of  the  bracin'  air  of  the  pine  woods  of  Maine 
has  blowed  into  James'es  intellect,  and  braced  it. 


SAMANTHA   MEETING   JAMES   G.    BLAINE. 

I  think  enough  of  James,  but  not  too  much.  My  likin' 
is  jest  about  strong  enough  from  a  literary  person  to  a 
literary  person. 

We  are  both  literary,  very.  He  is  considerable  taller 
than  I  am  ;  and  on  that  account,  and  a  good  many  others, 
I  felt  like  lookiii'  up  to  him. 


SWEET  CICELY.  205 

Wall,  when  I  have  got  a  hard  job  in  front  of  me,  I  don't 
know  any  better  way  than  to  tackle  it  to  once.  So  con 
sequently  I  tackled  it. 

I  told  James,  that  Dorlesky  Burpy  had  sent  two  errents 
by  me,  and  I  had  brought  'em  from  Jonesville  on  my 
tower. 

And  then  I  told  him  jest  how  she  had  suffered  from  the 
Whisky  Ring,  and  how  she  had  suffered  from  not  havin' 
her  rights ;  and  I  told  him  all  about  her  relations  sufferin', 
and  that  Dorlesky  wanted  the  Ring  broke,  and  her  rights 
gin  to  her,  within  seven  days  at  the  longest. 

He  rubbed  his  brow  thoughtfully,  and  says,  — 

"  It  will  be  difficult  to  accomplish  so  much  in  so  short 
a  time." 

"  I  know  it,"  says  I.  "  I  told  Dorlesky  it  would.  But 
she  feels  jest  so,  and  I  promised  to  do  her  errent ;  and  I 
am  a  doin'  it." 

Agin  he  rubbed  his  brow  in  deep  thought,  and  agin  he 
says,  — 

"  I  don't  think  Dorlesky  is  unreasonable  in  her  demands, 
only  in  the  length  of  time  she  has  set." 

Says  I,  "That  is  jest  what  I  told  Dorlesky.  I  didn't 
believe  you  could  do  her  errents  this  week.  But  you  can 
see  for  yourself  that  she  is  right,  only  in  the  time  she  has 
sot." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  He  see  she  wuz."  And  says  he,  "  I 
wish  the  3  could  be  reconciled." 

"What  3?"  says  I. 

Says  he,  "  The  liquor  traffic,  liberty,  and  Dorlesky." 

And  then  come  the  very  hardest  part  of  my  errent. 
But  I  had  to  do  it.  I  had  to. 


206  SWEET  CICELY. 

Says  I,  in  the  deep,  solemn  tones  befitting  the  threat, 
for  I  wuzn't  the  woman  to  cheat  Dorlesky  when  she  was 
out  of  sight,  and  use  the  wrong  tones  at  the  wrong  times 
—  no,  I  used  my  deepest  and  most  skairful  one  —  says  I, 
u  Dorlesky  told  me  to  tell  you  that  if  you  didn't  do  her 
errent,  you  should  not  be  the  next  President  of  the 
United  States." 

He  turned  pale.     He  looked  agitated,  fearful  agitated. 

I  s'pose  it  was  not  only  my  words  and  tone  that  skairt 
him,  but  my  mean.  I  put  on  my  noblest  mean ;  and  I 
s'pose  I  have  got  a  very  noble,  high-headed  mean  at  times. 
I  got  it,  I  think,  in  the  first  place,  by  overlookin'  Josiah's 
faults.  I  always  said  a  wife  ort  to  overlook  her  husband's 
faults ;  and  I  have  to  overlook  so  many,  that  it  has  made 
me  about  as  high-headed,  sometimes,  as  a  warlike  gander, 
but  more  sort  o'  meller-lookin',  and  sublime,  kinder. 

He  stood  white  as  a  piece  of  a  piller-case,  and  seernin'ly 
plunged  down  into  the  deepest  thought.  But  finally  he 
riz  part  way  out  of  it,  and  says  he,  — 

"  I  want  to  be  on  the  side  of  Truth  and  Justice.  I 
want  to,  awfully.  And  while  I  do  not  want  to  be  Presi 
dent  of  the  United  States,  yet  at  the  same  time  I  do  want 
to  be  — if  you'll  understand  that  paradox,"  says  he. 

"Yes,"  says  I  sadly.  "I  understand  that  paradox.  I 
have  seen  it  myself,  right  in  my  own  family."  And 
I  sithed.  And  agin  silence  rained ;  and  I  sot  quietly  in 
the  rain,  thinkin'  mebby  good  would  come  of  it. 

Finally  he  riz  out  of  his  revery ;  and  says  he,  with  a 
brighter  look  on  his  linement,  — 

"  I  am  not  the  one  to  go  to.  I  am  not  the  one  to  do 
Dorlesky's  errent." 


SWEET  CICELY.  207 

"  Who  is  the  one  ?  "  says  I. 

"  Senator  Logan,"  says  he. 

Says  I,  "  I'll  send  Bub  Smith  to  Senator  Logan'ses  the 
minute  I  get  back;  for  much  as  I  want  to  obleege  a 
neighbor,  I  can't  traipse  all  over  Washington,  walkin' 
afoot,  and  carry  in'  Dorlesky's  errent.  But  Bub  is  trusty : 
I'll  send  him."  And  I  riz  up  to  go.  He  riz  up  too.  He 
is  a  gentleman ;  and,  as  I  said,  I  like  his  looks.  He  has 
got  that  grand  sort  of  a  noble  look,  I  have  seen  in  other 
literary  people,  or  has  been  seen  in  'em;  but  modesty 
forbids  my  sayin'  a  word  further. 

But  jest  at  this  minute  Mr.  Blaines'es  hired  man  come 
in,  and  told  him  that  he  was  wanted  below ;  and  he  took 
up  his  hat  and  gloves. 

But  jest  as  he  was  startin'  out,  he  says,  turnin'  to  the 
other  gentleman  in  the  room,  — 

"  This  gentleman  is  a  senator.  Mebby  he  can  do  Dor- 
lesky's  errent  for  you." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  would  be  glad  to  get  it  done,  with 
out  goin'  any  further.  It  would  tickle  Dorlesky  most  to 
death,  and  lots  and  lots  of  other  wimmen." 

Mr.  Blaine  spoke  to  the  gentleman ;  and  he  come  for 
ward,  and  Mr.  Blaine  introduced  us.  But  I  didn't  ketch 
his  name  ;  because,  jest  as  Mr.  Blaine  spoke  it,  my  umber- 
ell  fell,  and  the  gentleman  sprung  forward  to  pick  it  up ; 
and  then  he  shook  hands  with  me :  and  Mr.  Blaine  said 
good-bye  to  me,  and  started  off. 

I  felt  willin'  and  glad  to  have  this  senator  do  Dorlesky's 
errents,  but  I  didn't  like  his  looks  from  the  very  first 
minute  I  sot  my  eyes  on  him. 

My  land !  talk  about  Dorlesky  Burpy  bein'  disagreable 


208 


SWEET  CICELY. 


—  he  wus  as  disagreable  as  she  is,  any  day.  He  was 
kinder  tall,  and  looked  out  of  his  eyes,  and  wore  a  vest : 
I  don't  know  as  I  can  describe  him  any  more  close  than 
that.  He  was  some  bald-headed,  and  he  kinder  smiled 


MR.    ELAINE   INTRODUCING  THE   SENATOR. 

once  in  a  while :    I  persume   he  will  be  known  by  this 
description.     It  is  plain,  anyway,  almost  lucid. 

But  his  baldness  didn't  look  to  me  like  Josiah  Allen's 
baldness  ;  and  he  didn't  have  a  mite  of  that  smart,  straight- 


SWEET  CICELY.  209 

forward  way  of  Elaine,  or  the  perfect  courtesy  and  kind 
ness  of  Allen  Arthur.  No .  I  sort  o'  despised  him  from 
the  first  minute. 

Wall,  he  was  dretful  polite  :  good  land !  politeness  is  no 
name  for  his  mean.  Truly,  as  Josiah  Allen  says,  I  don't 
like  to  see  anybody  too  good. 

He  drawed  a  chair  up,  for  me  and  for  himself,  and  asked 
me, — 

"If  he  should  have  the  inexpressible  honor  and  the 
delightful  joy  of  aiding  me  in  any  way :  if  so,  command 
him  to  do  it,"  or  words  to  that  effect.  I  can't  put  down 
his  smiles,  and  genteel  looks,  and  don't  want  to  if  I  could. 

But  tacklin'  hard  jobs  as  I  always  tackle  'em,  I  sot  right 
down  calmly  in  front  of  him,  with  my  umberell  acrost  my 
lap,  and  told  him  over  all  of  Dorlesky's  errents.  And 
how  I  had  brought  'em  from  Jonesville  on  my  tower.  I 
told  over  all  of  her  sufferin's,  from  the  Ring,  and  from 
not  havin'  her  rights;  and  all  her  sister  Susan  Clapsad- 
dle's  sufferin's ;  and  all  her  aunt  Eunice's  and  Patty's, 
and  Brasilia's  and  Abagail's,  sufferin's.  I  did  her  errerit 
up  honorable  and  square,  as  I  would  love  to  have  a  errent 
done  for  me.  I  told  him  all  the  particulers ;  and  as  I  fin 
ished,  I  said  firmly,  — 

"  Now,  can  you  do  Dorlesky's  errents  ?  and  will  you  ?  " 

He  leaned  forward  with  that  deceitful  and  sort  of  disa- 
greable  smile  of  hisen,  and  took  up  one  corner  of  my 
mantilly.  It  wus  cut  tab  fashion ;  and  he  took  up  the 
tab,  and  says  he,  in  a  low,  insinuatin'  voice,  and  lookin' 
close  at  the  edge  of  the  tab,  — 

"  Am  I  mistaken,  or  is  this  pipein'  ?  or  can  it  be  Ken 
sington  tattin'  ?  " 


210  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  jest  drawed  the  tab  back  coldly,  and  never  dained  a 
reply. 

Again  he  says,  in  a  tone  of  amiable  anxiety,  — 

"  Have  I  not  heard  a  rumor  that  bangs  were  going  out 
of  style  ?  I  see  you  do  not  wear  your  lovely  hair  bang- 
like,  or  a  pompidorus !  Ah  !  wimmeii  are  lovely  creatures, 
lovely  beings,  every  one  of  them."  And  he  sithed. 
"  You  are  very  beautiful."  And  he  sithed  agin,  a  sort  of  a 
deceitful,  love-sick  sithe. 

I  sot  demute  as  the  Sfinx,  and  a  chippin'-bird  a  tappin' 
his  wing  against  her  stunny  breast  would  move  it  jest  as 
much  as  he  moved  me  by  his  talk  or  his  sithes.  But  he 
kep'  on,  puttin'  on  a  kind  of  a  sad,  injured  look,  as  if  my 
coldness  wus  ondoin'  of  him,  — 

"  My  dear  madam,  it  is  my  misfortune  that  the  topics  I 
introduce,  however  carefully  selected  by  me,  do  not  seem 
to  be  congenial  to  you.  Have  you  a  leaning  toward  nat 
ural  history,  madam?  Have  you  ever  studied  into  the 
traits  and  habits  of  our  American  wad  ?  " 

"  What  ? "  says  I.  For  truly,  a  woman's  curiosity, 
however  paralized  by  just  indignation,  can  stand  only 
jest  so  much  strain.  uThe  what?  " 

"The  wad.  The  animal  from  which  is  obtained  the 
valuable  fur  that  tailors  make  so  much  use  of." 

Says  I,  "Do  you  mean  waddin'  8  cents  a  sheet?" 

"8  cents  a  pelt — yes,  the  skins  are  plentiful  and  cheap, 
owing  to  the  hardy  habits  of  the  animal." 

Says  I,  "  Cease  instantly.     I  will  hear  no  more." 

Truly,  I  had  heard  much  of  the  flattery  and  the  little  talk 
that  statesmen  will  use  to  wimmen,  and  I  had  heard  much 
of  their  lies,  etc. ;  but  truly,  I  felt  that  the  £  had  not  been 
told.  And  then  I  thought  out  loud,  and  says,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  211 

"  I  have  hearn  how  laws  of  right  and  justice  are  sot  one 
side  in  Washington,  D.C.,  as  bein'  too  triflin'  to  attend  to, 
while  the  legislators  pondered  over,  and  passed  laws 
regardin',  hens'  eggs  and  birds'  nests.  But  this  is  goin' 
too  fur  —  too  fur.  But,"  says  I  firmly,  "I  shall  do  Dor- 
lesky's  errents,  and  do  'em  to  the  best  of  my  ability ;  and 
you  can't  draw  off  my  attention  from  her  sufferin's  and 
her  sufrragin's  by  talkin'  about  wads." 

"  I  would  love  to  obleege  Dorlesky,"  says  he,  ".because 
she  belongs  to  such  a  lovely  sex.  Wimmen  are  the  love 
liest,  most  angelic  creatures  that  ever  walked  the  earth : 
they  are  perfect,  flawless,  like  snow  and  roses." 

Says  I  firmly,  "  That  hain't  no  such  thing.  They  are 
disagreable  creeters  a  good  deal  of  the  time.  They 
hain't  no  better  than  men.  But  they  ought  to  have  their 
rights  all  the  same.  Now,  Dorlesky  is  disagreable,  and 
kinder  fierce  actin',  and  jest  as  humbly  as  they  make  wim- 
men ;  but  that  hain't  no  sign  she  ort  to  be  imposed  upon. 
Josiah  says,  4  She  hadn't  ort  to  have  a  right,  not  a  single 
right,  because  she  is  so  humbly.'  But  I  don't  feel  so." 

"Who  is  Josiah  ?  "  says  he. 

Says  I,  }'  My  husband." 

"  Ah !  your  husband  !  yes,  wimmen  should  have  hus 
bands  instead  of  rights.  They  do  not  need  rights,  they 
need  freedom  from  all  cares  and  sufferings.  Sweet,  lovely 
beings,  let  them  have  husbands  to  lift  them  above  all 
earthly  cares  and  trials  !  Oh  !  angels  of  our  homes,"  says 
he,  liftin'  his  eyes  to  the  heavens,  and  kinder  shettin'  'em, 
some  as  if  he  was  goin'  into  a  trance,  "fly  around,  ye 
angels,  in  your  native  haunts !  mingle  not  with  rings,  and 
vile  laws ;  flee  away,  flee  above  them." 


212 


SWEET  CICELY. 


And  he  kinder  moved  his  hand  back  and  forth,  in  a 

floatin'  fashion,  up  in  the  air,  as  if  it  was  a  woman  a  flyin' 

up  there,  smooth  and  serene.     It  would  have  impressed 

some  folks  dretful,  but  it  didn't  me.     I  says  reasonably,  — 

"Dorlesky  would  Jiave  been  glad  to  flew  above   Tem. 

But  the  ring  and  the 
vile  laws  laid  holt  of  her, 
unbeknown  to  her,  and 
dragged  her  down.  And 
there  she  is,  all  dragged 
and  bruised  and  broken 
hearted  by  it.  She  didn't 
meddle  with  the  political 
ring,  but  the  ring  med 
dled  with  her.  How  can 
she  fly  when  the  weight 
of  this  infamous  traffic 
is  a  holdin'  her  down  ?  " 
"  Ahem  !  "  says  he. 
"  Ahem,  as  it  were — as 
I  was  saying,  my  dear 
madam,  these  angelic 
angels  of  our  homes  are 
too  ethereal,  too  dainty, 
to  mingle  with  the  rude 
crowds.  We  political 
men  would  fain  keep  them  as  they  are  now  :  we  are  will 
ing  to  stand  the  rude  buffe tings  of — of — voting,  in  order 
to  guard  these  sweet,  delicate  creatures  from  any  hard 
ships.  Sweet,  tender  beings,  we  would  fain  guard  you  - 
ah,  yes  !  ah,  yes !  " 


FLY   AROUND,   YE   ANGELS.' 


SWEET  CICELY. 


213 


WOMAN'S  KIGHTS. 

ruin  by  the 
miserable  want 
liquor  -  drinkin' 
entails.  They 
are  starved, 
they  are  frozen, 
they  are  beaten, 
they  are  made 
childless  and 
hopeless,  by 
drunken  hus 
bands  killing 
their  own  flesh 
and  blood. 


Says  I,  "  Cease  instantly,  or 
my  sickness  will  increase ;  for 
such  talk  is  like  thoroughwort  or 
lobelia  to  my  moral  stomach." 
Says  I,  "  You  know,  and  I 
know,  that  these  angelic,  ten 
der  bein's,  half  clothed,  fill  our 
streets  on  icy  midnights,  hunt- 
in'  up  drunken  husbands  and 
fathers  and  sons.  They  are 
driven  to  death  and  to  moral 


SOMEBODY  BLUNDERED. 


214  SWEET  CICELY. 

They  go  down  into  the  cold  waves,  and  are  drowned  by 
drunken  captains  ;  they  are  cast  from  railways  into  death, 
by  drunken  engineers  ;  they  go  up  on  the  scaffold,  and  die 
of  crimes  committed  by  the  direct  aid  of  this  agent  of 
hell. 

44  Wimmen  had  ruther  be  a  flyin'  round  than  to  do  all 
this,  but  they  can't.  If  men  really  believe  all  they  say 
about  wimmen,  and  I  think  some  of  'em  do,  in  a  dreamy 
way — if  wimmen  are  angels,  give  'em  the  rights  of  angels. 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  angel  foldin'  up  her  wings,  and  goin' 
to  a  poorhouse  or  jail  through  the  fault  of  somebody  else  ? 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  angel  bein'  dragged  off  to  a  police 
court  by  a  lot  of  men,  for  fightin'  to  defend  her  children 
and  herself  from  a  drunken  husband  that  had  broke  her 
wings,  and  blacked  her  eyes,  himself,  got  the  angel  into 
the  fight,  and  then  she  got  throwed  into  the  streets  and 
the  prison  by  it  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  a  angel  havin'  to 
take  in  washin'  to  support  a  drunken  son  or  father  or  hus 
band  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  a  angel  goin'  out  as  wet  nurse 
to  get  money  to  pay  taxes  on  her  home  to  a  Government 
that  in  theory  idolizes  her,  and  practically  despises  her,  and 
uses  that  same  money  in  ways  abomenable  to  that  angel  ? 

"  If  you  want  to  be  consistent  —  if  you  are  bound  to 
make  angels  of  wimmen,  you  ort  to  furnish  a  free,  safe 
place  for  'em  to  soar  in.  You  ort  to  keep  the  angels  from 
bein'  meddled  with,  and  bruised,  and  killed,  etc." 

44  Ahem,"  says  he.     44  As  it  were,  ahem." 

But  I  kep'  right  on,  for  I  begun  to  feel  noble  and  by  the 
side  of  myself. 

44  This  talk  about  wimmen  bein'  outside  and  above  all 
participation  in  the  laws  of  her  country,  is  jest  as  pretty 


SWEET  CICELY.  215 

as  I  ever  heard  any  thing,  and  jest  as  simple.  Why,  you 
might  jest  as  well  throw  a  lot  of  snowflakes  into  the  street, 
and  say,  4  Some  of  'em  are  female  flakes,  and  mustn't  be 
trampled  on.'  The  great  march  of  life  tramples  on  'em  all 
alike :  they  fall  from  one  common  sky,  and  are  trodden 
down  into  one  common  ground. 

"'Men  and  wimmen  are  made  with  divine  impulses  and 
desires,  and  human  needs  and  weaknesses,  needin'  the 
same  heavenly  light,  and  the  same  human  aids  and  helps. 
The  law  should  meet  out  to  them  the  same  rewards  and 
punishments. 

"  Dorlesky  says  you  call  wimmens  angels,  and  you  don't 
give  'em  the  rights  of  the  lowest  beasts  that  crawls  upon 
the  earth.  And  Dorlesky  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she 
didn't  ask  the  rights  of  a  angel :  she  would  be  perfectly 
contented  and  proud  if  you  would  give  her  the  rights  of 
a  dog  —  the  assured  political  rights  of  a  yeller  dog.  She 
said  '  yeller ; '  and  I  am  bound  on  doin'  her  errent  jest  as 
she  wanted  me  to,  word  for  word. 

"A  dog,  Dorlesky  says,  don't  have  to  be  hung  if  it 
breaks  the  laws  it  is  not  allowed  any  hand  in  making.  A 
dog  don't  have  to  pay  taxes  on  its  bone  to  a  Government 
that  withholds  every  right  of  citizenship  from  it. 

"  A  dog  hain't  called  undogly  if  it  is  industrious,  and 
hunts  quietly  round  for  its  bone  to  the  best  of  its  ability, 
and  wants  to  get  its  share  of  the  crumbs  that  fall  from 
that  table  that  bills  are  laid  on. 

"  A  dog  hain't  preached  to  about  its  duty  to  keep  home 
sweet  and  sacred,  and  then  see  that  home  turned  into  a 
place  of  torment  under  laws  that  these  very  preachers 
have  made  legal  and  respectable. 


216  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  A  dog  don't  have  to  see  its  property  taxed  to  advance 
laws  that  it  believes  ruinous,  and  that  breaks  its  own 
heart  and  the  hearts  of  other  dear  dogs. 

"  A  dog  don't  have  to  listen  to  soul-sickening  speeches 
from  them  that  deny  it  freedom  and  justice  —  about  its 
bein'  a  damosk  rose,  and  a  seraphine,  when  it  knows  it 
hain't :  it  knows,  if  it  knows  any  thing,  that  it  is  a 
dog. 

"  You  see,  Dorlesky  has  been  kinder  embittered  by  her 
trials  that  politics,  corrupt  legislation,  has  brought  right 
onto  her.  She  didn't  want  nothin'  to  do  with  'em ;  but 
they  come  right  onto  her  unexpected  and  unbeknown, 
and  she  feels  jest  so.  She  feels  she  must  do  every  thing 
she  can  to  alter  matters.  She  wants  to  help  make  the  laws 
that  have  such  a  overpowerin'  influence  over  her,  herself. 
She  believes  from  her  soul  that  they  can't  be  much  worse 
than  they  be  now,  and  may  be  a  little  better." 

"Ah!  if  Dorlesky  wishes  to  influence  political  affairs, 
let  her  influence  her  children,  —  her  boys,  —  and  they 
will  carry  her  benign  and  noble  influence  forward  into 
the  centuries." 

"  But  the  law  has  took  her  boy,  her  little  boy  and  girl, 
away  from  her.  Through  the  influence  of  the  Whisky 
Ring,  of  which  her  husband  was  a  shinin'  member,  he  got 
possession  of  her  boy.  And  so,  the  law  has  made  it  per 
fectly  impossible  for  her  to  mould  it  indirectly  through 
him.  What  Dorlesky  does,  she  must  do  herself." 

"  Ah !  A  sad  thing  for  Dorlesky.  I  trust  that  you  have 
no  grievance  of  the  kind,  I  trust  that  your  estimable 
husband  is  —  as  it  were,  estimable." 

"  Yes,  Josiah  Allen  is  a  good  man.     As  good  as  men 


SWEET  CICELY.  217 

can  be.  You  know,  men  or  wimmen  either  can't  be  only 
jest  about  so  good  anyway.  But  lie  is  my  choice,  and  he 
don't  drink  a  drop." 

"  Pardon  me,  madam ;  but  if  you  are  happy,  as  you 
say,  in  your  marriage  relations,  and  your  husband  is  a 
temperate,  good  man,  why  do  you  feel  so  upon  this  sub 
ject?" 

"  Why,  good  land !  if  you  understand  the  nature  of  a 
woman,  you  would  know  that  my  love  for  him,  my  happi 
ness,  the  content  and  safety  I  feel  about  him,  and  our  boy, 
makes  me  realize  the  sufferings  of  Dorlesky  in  havin'  her 
husband  and  boy  lost  to  her ,  makes  me  realize  the  depth 
of  a  wive's,  of  a  mother's,  agony,  when  she  sees  the  one 
she  loves  goin'  down,  goin'  down  so  low  that  she  can't 
reach  him  ;  makes  me  feel  how  she  must  yearn  to  help  him 
in  some  safe,  sure  way. 

"  High  trees  cast  long  shadows.  The  happier  and  more 
blessed  a  woman's  life  is,  the  more  does  she  feel  for  them 
who  are  less  blessed  than  she.  Highest  love  goes  lowest, 
if  need  be.  Witness  the  love  that  left  Heaven,  and  de 
scended  onto  the  earth,  and  into  it,  that  He  might  lift  up 
the  lowly. 

"  The  pityin'  words  of  Him  who  went  about  pleasin' 
not  himself,  hants  me,  and  inspires  me.  I  am  sorry  for 
Dorlesky,  sorry  for  the  hull  wimmen  race  of  the  nation  — 
and  for  the  men  too.  Lots  of  'em  are  good  creeters  — 
better  than  wimmen,  some  on  'em.  They  want  to  do  jest 
about  right,  but  don't  exactly  see  the  way  to  do  it.  In 
the  old  slavery  times,  some  of  the  masters  was  more  to  be 
pitied  than  the  slaves.  They  could  see  the  injustice,  feel 
the  wrong,  they  was  doin' ;  but  old  chains  of  custom 


218  SWEET  CICELY. 

bound  'em,  social  customs  and  idees  had  hardened  into 
habits  of  thought. 

"  They  realized  the  size  and  heft  of  the  evil,  but  didn't 
know  how  to  grapple  with  it,  and  throw  it. 

"  So  now,  many  men  see  the  great  evils  of  this  time, 
want  to  help  it,  but  don't  know  the  best  way  to  lay  holt 
of  it. 

"Life  is  a  curious  conundrum  anyway,  and  hard  to 
guess.  But  we  can  try  to  get  the  right  answer  to  it  as  fur 
as  we  can.  Dorlesky  feels  that  one  of  the  answers  to  the 
conundrum  is  in  gettin'  her  rights.  She  feels  jest  so. 

"  I  myself  have  got  all  the  rights  I  need,  or  want,  as  fur 
as  my  own  happiness  is  concerned.  My  home  is  my  castle 
(a  story  and  a  half  wooden  one,  but  dear). 

"  My  towers  elevate  me,  the  companionship  of  my 
friends  give  social  happiness,  our  children  are  prosperous 
and  happy.  We  have  property  enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  for  all  the  comforts  of  life.  And,  above  all  other 
things,  my  Josiah  is  my  love  and  my  theme." 

"  Ah !  yes ! "  says  he.  "  Love  is  a  woman's  empire, 
and  in  that  she  should  find  her  full  content  —  her  entire 
happiness  and  thought.  A  womanly  woman  will  not 
look  outside  of  that  lovely  and  safe  and  beautious  em 
pire." 

Says  I  firmly,  "  If  she  hain't  a  idiot,  she  can't  help  it. 
Love  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  on  earth,  the  most  holy, 
the  most  satisfyin'.  But  which  would  you  like  best  —  I 
do  not  ask  you  as  a  politician,  but  as  a  human  bein'  — 
which  would  you  like  best,  the  love  of  a  strong,  earnest, 
tender  nature  —  for  in  man  or  woman,  'the  strongest  are 
the  tenderest,  the  loving  are  the  daring  '  —  which  would 


SWEET  CICELY.  219 

you  like  best,  the  love  and  respect  of  such  a  nature,  full 
of  wit,  of,  tenderness,  of  infinite  variety,  or  the  love  of  a 
fool? 

"  A  fool's  love  is  wearin' :  it  is  insipid  at  the  best,  and 
it  turns  to  viniger.  Why  !  sweetened  water  must  turn  to 
viniger :  it  is  its  nater.  And,  if  a  woman  is  bright  and 
true-hearted,  she  can't  help  seein'  through  a  injustice.  She 
may  be  happy  in  her  own  home.  Domestic  affection,  social 
enjoyments,  the  delights. of  a  cultured  home  and  society, 
and  the  companionship  of  the  man  she  loves,  and  who  loves 
her,  will,  if  she  is  a  true  woman,  satisfy  fully  her  own 
personal  needs  and  desires ;  and  she  would  far  rather,  for 
her  own  selfish  happiness,  rest  quietly  in  that  love  —  that 
most  blessed  home. 

"  But  the  bright,  quick  intellect  that  delights  you,*  can't 
help  seeing  through  an  injustice,  can't  help  seeing  through 
shams  of  all  kinds  —  sham  sentiment,  sham  compliments, 
sham  justice. 

"  The  tender,  lovin'  nature  that  blesses  your  life,  can't 
help  feelin'  pity  for  those  less  blessed  than  herself.  She 
looks  down  through  the  love-guarded  lattice  of  her  home, 
—  from  which  your  care  would  fain  bar  out  all  sights  of 
woe  and  squalor,  —  she  looks  down,  and  sees  the  weary 
toilers  below,  the  hopeless,  the  wretched;  she  sees  the 
steep  hills  they  have  to  climb,  carryin'  their  crosses ;  she 
sees  'em  go  down  into  the  mire,  dragged  there  by  the  love 
that  should  lift  'em  up. 

"  She  would  not  be  the  woman  you  love,  if  she  could 
restrain  her  hand  from  liftin'  up  the  fallen,  wipin'  tears 
from  weepin'  eyes,  speakin'  brave  words  for  them  who 
can't  speak  for  themselves. 


220  SWEET  CICELY. 

"The  very  strength  of  her  affection  that  would  hold 
you  up,  if  you  were  in  trouble  or  disgrace,  yearns  to  help 
all  sorrowin'  hearts. 

"  Down  in  your  heart,  you  can't  help  adrnirin'  her  for 
this :  we  can't  help  respectin'  the  one  who  advocates  the 
right,  the  true,  even  if  they  are  our  conquerors. 

"  Wimmen  hain't  angels :  now,  to  be  candid,  you  know 
they  hain't.  They  hain't  better  than  men.  Men  are  con 
siderable  likely;  and  it  seems  curious  to  me,  that  they 
should  act  so  in  this  one  thing.  For  men  ort  to  be  more 
honest  and  open  than  wimmen.  They  hain't  had  to  cajole 
and  wheedle,  and  spile  their  natures,  through  little  trick 
eries  and  deceits,  and  indirect  ways,  that  wimmen  has. 

"Why,  cramp  a  tree-limb,  and  see  if  it  will  grow  as 
straight  and  vigorous  as  it  would  in  full  freedom  and 
sunshine. 

"  Men  ort  to  be  nobler  than  wimmen,  sincerer,  braver. 
And  they  ort  to  be  ashamed  of  this  one  trick  of  theirn  ;  for 
they  know  they  hain't  honest  in  it,  they  hain't  generous. 

"  Give  wimmen  2  or  3  generations  of  moral  freedom, 
and  see  if  men  will  laugh  at  'em  for  their  little  deceits 
and  affectations. 

"  No :  men  will  be  gentler,  and  wimmen  nobler ;  and 
they  will  both  come  nearer  bein'  angels,  though  most 
probable  they  won't  be  angels :  they  won't  be  any  too  good 
then,  I  hain't  a  mite  afraid  of  it." 

He  kinder  sithed;  and  that  sithe  sort  o'  brought  me 
down  onto  my  feet  agin  (as  it  were),  and  a  sense  of  my 
duty :  and  I  spoke  out  agin, — 

"  Can  you,  and  will  you,  do  Dorlesky's  errents  ?  " 

Wall,  he  said,  "as  far  as   giving   Dorlesky  her  rights 


SWEET  CICELY. 


221 


THE   WEARY   TOILERS   OF   LIFE. 


222  SWEET  CICELY. 

was  concerned,  he  felt  that  natural  human  instinct  was 
against  the  change."  He  said,  "in  savage  races,  who 
knew  nothing  of  civilization,  male  force  and  strength 
always  ruled." 

Says  I,  "  History  can't  be  disputed ;  and  history  tells  of 
savage  races  where  the  wimmen  always  rule,  though  I 
don't  think  they  ort  to,"  says  I :  "  ability  and  goodness  ort 
to  rule." 

"  Nature  is  against  it,"  says  he. 

Says  I  firmly,  "Female  bees,  and  lots  of  other  insects, 
and  animals,  always  have  a  female  for  queen  and  ruler. 
They  rule  blindly  and  entirely,  right  on  through  the  cen 
turies.  But  we  are  more  enlightened,  and  should  not  en 
courage  it.  In  my  opinion,  a  male  bee  has  jest  as  good  a 
right  to  be  monarch  as  his  female  companion  has.  That 
is,"  says  I  reasonably,  "if  he  knows  as  much,  and  is  as 
good  a  calculator  as  she  is.  I  love  justice,  I  almost  wor 
ship  it." 

Agin  he  sithed;  and  says  he,  "Modern  history  don't 
seem  to  encourage  the  skeme." 

But  his  axent  was  weak,  weak  as  a  cat.  He  knew 
better. 

Says  I,  "  We  won't  argue  long  on  that  point,  for  I  could 
overwhelm  you  if  I  •  approved  of  overwhelmin'.  But  I 
merely  ask  you  to  cast  your  right  eye  over  into  England, 
and  then  beyond  it  into  France.  Men  have  ruled  exclu 
sively  in  France  for  the  last  40  or  50  years,  and  a  woman 
in  England :  which  realm  has  been  the  most  peaceful  and 
prosperous  ?  " 

He  sithed  twice.  And  he  bowed  his  head  upon  his 
breast,  in  a  sad,  almost  meachin'  way.  I  nearly  pitied 


SWEET  CICELY.  223 

him,  disagreable  as  he  wuz.  When  all  of  a  sudden  he 
brightened  up  ;  and  says  he,  — 

"  You  seem  to  place  a  great  deal  of  dependence  on  the 
Bible.  The  Bible  is  aginst  the  idee.  The  Bible  teaches 
man's  supremacy,  man's  absolute  power  and  might  and 
authority." 

"Why,  how  you  talk!"  says  I.  "Why,  in  the  very 
first  chapter,  the  Bible  tells  how  man  was  jest  turned  right 
round  by  a  woman.  It  teaches  how  she  not  only  turned 
man  right  round  to  do  as  she  wanted  him  to,  but  turned 
the  hull  world  over. 

"  That  hain't  nothin'  I  approve  of :  I  don't  speak  of  it 
because  I  like  the  idee.  That  wuzn't  done  in  a  open, 
honorable  manner,  as  I  believe  things  should  be  done. 
No  :  Eve  ruled  by  indirect  influence,  —  the  '  gently  influ 
encing  men'  way,  that  politicians  are  so  fond  of.  And 
she  jest  brought  ruin  and  destruction  onto-  the  hull  world 
by  it. 

"  A  few  years  later,  after  men  and  wimmen  grew  wiser, 
when  we  hear  of  wimmen  ruling  Israel  openly  and  hon 
estly,  like  Miriam,  Deborah,  and  other  likely  old  4  mothers, 
why,  things  went  on  better.  They  didn't  act  meachin', 
and  tempt,  and  act  indirect,  I'll  bet,  or  I  wouldn't  be 
afraid  to  bet,  if  I  approved  of  bettin'." 

He  sithed  powerful,  and  sot  round  oneasy  in  his  chair. 
And  says  he,  "  I  thought  wimmen  was  taught  by  the 
Bible  to  serve,  and  love  their  homes." 

"  So  they  be.  And  every  true  woman  loves  to  serve. 
Home  is  my  supreme  happiness  and  delight,  and  my  best 
happiness  is  found  in  servin'  them  I  love.  But  I  must 
tell  the  truth,  in  the  house  or  outdoors." 


224  SWEET  CICELY. 

"Wall,"  says  he  faintly,  "the  Old  Testament  may 
teach  that  wimmen  has  some  strenth  and  power ;  but  in 
the  New  Testament,  you  will  find  that  in  every  great 
undertakin'  and  plan,  men  have  been  chosen  by  God  to 
carry  it  through." 

"  Why-ee  !  "  says  I.  "  How  you  talk  !  "  says  I.  "  Have 
you  ever  read  the  Bible  ?  " 

He  said  "He  had,  his  grandmother  owned  one.  And 
he  had  seen  it  in  early  youth." 

And  then  he  went  on,  sort  o'  apologizing  "He  had 
always  meant  to  read  it  through.  But  he  had  entered 
political  life  at  an  early  age,  and  he  believed  he  had  never 
read  any  more  of  it,  only  portions  of  Gulliver's  Travels. 
He  believed,"  lie  said,  uhe  had  read  as  far  as  Lillipu- 
tions." 

Says  T,  "  That  hain't  in  the  Bible,  —  you  mean  Galla- 
tians." 

"  Wall,"  he  said,  "  that  might  be  it.  It  was  some  man, 
he  knew,  and  he  had  always  heard  and  believed  that  man 
was  the  onfy  worker  God  had  chosen." 

"Why,"  says  I,  "the  one  great  theme  of  the  New 
Testament,  —  the  redemption  of  the  world  through  the 
birth  of  the  Christ,  —  no  man  had  any  thing  to  do  with 
that  whatever.  Our  divine  Lord  was  born  of  God  and 
woman. 

"Heavenly  plan  of  redemption  for  fallen  humanity. 
God  Himself  called  women  into  that  work,  —  the  divine 
work  of  helpin'  a  world. 

"  God  called  her.  Mary  had  no  dream  of  publicity,  no 
desire  for  a  world's  work  of  sufferin'  and  renunciation. 
The  soft  airs  of  Gallilee  wrapped  her  about  in  its  sweet 


SWEET  CICELY.  225 

content,  as  she  dreamed  her  quiet  dreams  in  maiden 
peace,  dreamed,  perhaps,  of  domestic  love  and  quiet  and 
happiness. 

"  From  that  sweetest  silence,  the  restful  peace  of  happy, 
innocent  girlhood,  God  called  her  to  her  divine  work  of 
helpin'  to  redeem  a  world  from  sin. 

"  And  did  not  this  woman's  love,  and  willin'  obedience, 
and  sufferin',  and  the  shame  of  the  world,  set  her  apart, 
babtize  her  for  this  work  of  liftin'  up  the  fallen,  helpin'  the 
weak? 

"  Is  it  not  a  part  of  woman's  life  that  she  gave  at  the 
birth  and  the  crucifixion?  —  her  faith,  her  hope,  her  suf 
ferin',  her  glow  of  divine  pity  and  joyful  martyrdom. 
These,  mingled  with  the  divine,  the  pure  heavenly,  have 
they  not  for  1800  years  been  blessin'  the  world?  The  God 
in  Christ  would  awe  us  too  much :  we  would  shield  our 
faces  from  the  too  blindin'  glare  of  the  pure  God-like. 
But  the  tender  Christ,  who  wept  over  a  sinful  city,  and 
the  grave  of  His  friend,  who  stopped  dyin'  upon  the  cross, 
to  comfort  his  mother's  heart,  provide  for  fter  future  — 
it  is  this  element  in  our  Lord's  nature  that  makes  us  dare 
to  approach  Him,  dare  to  kneel  at  His  feet. 

"  And  since  woman  wus  so  blessed  as  to  be  counted 
worthy  to  be  co-worker  with  God  in  the  beginnin'  of  a 
world's  redemption ;  since  He  called  her  from  the  quiet 
obscurity  of  womanly  rest  and  peace,  into  the  blessed  mar 
tyrdom  of  renunciation  and  toil  and  sufferin',  all  to  help  a 
world  that  cared  nothing  for  her,  that  cried  out  shame 
upon  her,  —  will  He  not  help  her  to  carry  on  the  work 
that  she  helped  commence  ?  Will  He  not  approve  of  her 
continum'  in  it  ?  Will  He  not  protect  her  in  it  ? 


226  SWEET  CICELY. 

"Yes:  she  cannot  be  harmed,  since  His  care  is  over 
her ;  and  the  cause  she  loves,  the  cause  of  helpin'  men 
and  wimmen,  is  God's  cause  too,  and  God  will  take  care  of 
His  own.  Herods  full  of  greed,  and  frightened  selfishness, 
may  try  to  break  her  heart,  by  efforts  to  kill  the  child  she 
loves ;  but  she  will  hold  it  so  close  to  her  bosom,  that  he 
can't  destroy  it.  And  the  light  of  the  divine  will  go 
before  her,  showin'  the  way  she  must  go,  over  the  desert, 
maybe  ;  but  she  shall  bear  it  into  safety." 

"  You  spoke  of  Herod,"  says  he  dreamily.  "  The  name 
sounds  familiar  to  me :  was  not  Mr.  Herod  once  in  the 
United-States  Congress  ?  " 

"  No,"  says  I.  "  He  died  some  years  ago.  But  he  has 
relatives  there  now,  I  think,  judging  from  recent  laws. 
You  ask  who  Herod  was ;  and,  as  it  all  seems  to  be  a  new 
story  to  you,  I  will  tell  you.  That  when  the  Saviour 
of  the  world  was  born  in  Bethlehem,  and  a  woman  was 
tryin'  to  save  His  life,  a  man  by  the  name  of  Herod  was 
tryin'  his  best,  out  of  selfishness,  and  love  of  gain,  to  mur 
der  him." 

"  Ah !  that  was  not  right  in  Herod." 

"  No,"  says  I.  "  It  hain't  been  called  so.  And  what 
wuzn't  right  in  him,  hain't  right  in  his  relations,  who  are 
tryin'  to  do  the  same  thing  to-day.  But,"  says  I  reason 
ably,  "  because  Herod  was  so  mean,  it  hain't  no  sign  that 
all  men  was  mean.  Joseph,  now,  was  likely  as  he  could 
be." 

"  Joseph,"  says  he  pensively.  "  Do  you  allude  to  our 
senator  from  Connecticut,  —  Joseph  R.  Hawley  ?  " 

"  No,  no,"  says  I.  "  He  is  likely,  as  likely  can  be,  and 
is  always  on  the  right  side  of  questions  —  middlin'  hand- 


SWEET  CICELY. 


227 


some  too.  But  I  am  talkin'  Bible  —  I  am  talkin'  about 
Joseph,  jest  plain  Joseph,  and  nothin'  else." 

"  Ah !     I  see  I  am  not  fully  familiar  with  that  work. 
Being  so  engrossed  in  politics,  and  political  literature,  I 
don't  get  any  time    to 
devote    to    less    impor 
tant  publications." 

Says  I  candidly,  "  I 
knew  you  hadn't  read 
it,  I  knew  it  the  min 
ute  you  mentioned  the 
Book  of  Lilliputions. 
But,  as  I  was  a  say  in', 
Joseph  was  a  likely 
man.  He  did  the  very 
best  he  could  with  what 
he  had  to  do  with.  He 
had  the  strength  to  lead 
the  way,  to  overcome 
obsticles,  to  keep  dan 
gers  from  Mary,  to  pro 
tect  her  tenderer  form 
with  the  mantilly  of  his 
generous  devotion. 

"  But  she  carried  the 
child  on  her  bosom. 

Pondering  high  things  in  her  heart  that  Joseph  had  never 
dreamed  of.  That  is  what  is  wanted  now,  and  in  the 
future.  The  man  and  the  woman  walking  side  by  side. 
He,  a  little  ahead  mebby,  to  keep  off  dangers  by  his 
greater  strength  and  courage.  She,  a  carryin'  the  infant 


BEARING  THE  BABY  PEACE. 


228  SWEET  CICELY. 

Christ  of  love,  bearin'  the  baby  Peace  in  her  bosom,  carry 
ing  it  into  safety  from  them  that  seek  to  murder  it. 

"  And,  as  I  said  before,  if  God  called  woman  into  this 
work,  He  will  enable  her  to  carry  it  through.  He  will 
protect  her  from  her  own  weaknesses,  and  from  the  mis 
apprehensions  and  hard  judgments  and  injustices  of  a 
gain-saying  world. 

"  Yes,  the  star  of  hope  is  rising  in  the  sky,  brighter  and 
brighter ;  and  the  wise  men  are  even  now  coming  from 
afar  over  the  desert,  seeking  diligently  where  this  -re 
deemer  is  to  be  found." 

He  sot  demute.  He  did  not  frame  a  reply  :  he  had  no 
frame,  and  I  knew  it.  Silence  rained  for  some  time  ;  and 
finally  I  spoke  out  solemnly  through  the  rain,  - 

"  Will  you  do  Dorlesky's  errents  ?  Will  you  give  her 
her  rights  ?  And  will  you  break  the  Whisky  Ring  ?  " 

He  said  he  would  love  to  da  Dorlesky's  errents.  He 
said  I  had  convinced  him  that  it  would  be  just  and  right 
to  do  'em,  but  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  stood 
up  firm  against  'em.  As  the  laws  of  the  United  State  wuz, 
he  could  not  make  any  move  towards  doin'  either  of  the 
errents. 

Says  I,  "  Can't  the  laws  be  changed  ?  " 

"  Be  changed  ?  Change  the  laws  of  the  United  States  ? 
Tamper  with  the  glorious  Constitution  that  our  4  fathers 
left  us  — an  immortal,  sacred  legacy? " 

He  jumped  right  up  on  his  feet,  in  his  surprise,  and 
kinder  shook,  as  if  he  was  skairt  most  to  death,  and  trem- 
blin'  with  horrow.  He  did  it  to  skair  me,  I  knew  ;  and  I 
wuz  most  skaird,  I  confess,  he  acted  so  horrowfied.  But 
I  knew  I  meant  well  towards  the  Constitution,  and  our 


SWEET  CICELY.  229 

old  4  fathers  ;  and  my  principles  stiddied  me,  and  held  me 
middliii'  firm  and  serene.  And  when  he  asked  me  agin  in 
tones  full  of  awe  and  horrow,  — 

"  Can  it  be  that  I  heard  my  ear  aright  ?  or  did  you 
speak  of  changing  the  unalterable  laws  of  the  United 
States  — tampering  with  the  Constitution  ?  " 

Says  I,  "  Yes,  that  is  what  I  said." 

Oh,  how  his  body  kinder  shook,  and  how  sort  o'  wild  he 
looked  out  of  his  eyes  at  me  ! 

Says  I,  "  Hain't  they  never  been  changed?" 

He  dropped  that  skairful  look  in  a  minute,  and  put  on 
a  firm,  judicial  one.  He  gin  up ;  he  could  not  skair  me 
to  death :  and  says  he,  — 

"  Oh,  yes !  they  have  been  changed  in  cases  of  neces 
sity." 

Says  I,  "  For  instance,  durin'  the  late  war,  it  was  changed 
to  make  Northern  men  cheap  blood-hounds  and  hunters." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  It  seemed  to  be  a  case  of  necessity 
and  econimy." 

"I  know  it,"  says  I.  "Men  was  cheaper  than  any 
other  breed  of  blood-hounds  the  planters  had  employed 
to  hunt  men  and  wimmen  with,  and  more  faithful." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  It  was  doubtless  a  case  of  clear 
econimy." 

And  says  I,  "  The  laws  have  been  changed  to  benifit 
whisky-dealers." 

"  Wall,  yes,"  he  said.  "  It  had  been  changed  to  enable 
whisky-dealers  to  utelize  the  surplufus  liquor  they  im 
port." 

Says  he,  gettin'  kinder  animated,  for  he  was  on  a  con 
genial  theme,  — 


230 


SWEET  CICELY. 


"Nobody,  the  best  calculators  in  drunkards,  can't  ex 
actly  calculate  on  how  much  whisky  will  be  drunk  in  a 
year ;  and  so,  ruther  than  have  the  whisky-dealers  suffer 
loss,  the  laws  had  to  be  changed. 

"And  then,"  says  he,  growin'  still  more  candid  in  his 


A  CASE  OF  NECESSITY. 


excitement,  "we  are  makin'  a  powerful  effort  to  change 
the  laws  now,  so  as  to  take  the  tax  off  of  whisky,  so  it 
can  be  sold  cheaper,  and  be  obtained  in  greater  quantities 
by  the  masses.  Any  such  great  laws  for  the  benifit  of  the 
nation,  of  course,  would  justify  a  change  in  the  Constitu 
tion  and  the  laws ;  but  for  any  frivolous  cause,  any  trivial 


SWEET  CICELY.  231 

cause,  madam,  we  male  custodians  of  the  sacred  Constitu 
tion  would  stand  as  walls  of  iron  before  it,  guarding  it 
from  any  shadow  of  change.  Faithful  we  will  be,  faithful 
unto  death." 

Says  I,  "As  it  has  been  changed,  it  can  be  again. 
And  you  jest  said  I  had  convinced  you  that  Dorlesky's 
errents  wus  errents  of  truth  and  justice,  and  you  would 
love  to  do  'em." 

"Well,  yes,  yes  —  I  would  love  to  —  as  it  were —  But 
really,  my  dear  madam,  much  as  I  would  like  to  oblige 
you,  I  have  not  the  time  to  devote  to  it.  We  senators 
and  Congressmen  are  so  driven,  and  hard-worked,  that 
really  we  have  no  time  to  devote  to  the  cause  of  Right 
and  Justice.  I  don't  think  you  realize  the  constant  press 
ure  of  hard  work,  that  is  ageing  us,  and  wearing  us  out, 
before  our  day. 

"  As  I  said,  we  have  to  watch  the  liquor-interest  con 
stantly,  to  see  that  the  liquor-dealers  suffer  no  loss  —  we 
have  to  do  that.  And  then,  we  have  to  look  sharp  if 
we  -cut  down  the  money  for  the  Indian  schools." 

Says  I,  in  a  sarcastick  tone,  "  I  s'pose  you  worked  hard 
for  that." 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  in  a  sort  of  a  proud  tone.  "  We  did, 
but  we  men  don't*  begrudge  labor  if  we  can  advance 
measures  of  economy.  You  see,  it  was  taking  sights  of 
money  just  to  Christianize  and  civilize  Injuns — savages. 
Why,  the  idea  was  worse  than  useless,  it  wus  perfectly  ruin 
ous  to  the  Indian  agents.  For  if,  through  those  schools, 
the  Indians  had  got  to  be  self-supporting  and  intelligent 
and  Christians,  why,  the  agents  couldn't  buy  their  wives 
and  daughters  for  a  yard  of  calico,  or  get  them  drunk,  and 


232  SWEET  CICELY. 

buy  a  horse  for  a  glass  bead,  and  a  farm  for  a  pocket 
lookin'-glass.  Well,  thank  fortune,  we  carried  that  im 
portant  measure  through ;  we  voted  strong ;  we  cut 
down  the  money  anyway.  And  there  is  one  revenue  that 
is  still  accruing  to  the  Government  —  or,  as  it  were, 
the  servants  of  Government,  the  agents.  You  see," 
says  he,  "  don't  you,  just  how  important  the  subjects  are, 
that  are  wearing  down  the  Congressional  and  senatorial 
mind?" 

uYes,"  says  I  sadly,  "I  see  a  good  deal  more  than  I 
want  to." 

"  Yes,  you  see  how  hard-worked  we  are.  With  all  the 
care  of  the  North  on  our  minds,  we  have  to ,  clean  out  all 
the  creeks  in  the  South,  so  the  planters  can  have  smooth 
sailing.  But  we  think,"  says  he  dreamily,  "  we  think  we 
have  saved  money  enough  out  of  the  Indian  schools,  to 
clean  out  most  of  their  creeks,  and  perhaps  have  a  little 
left  for  a  few  New- York  aldermen,  to  reward  them  for 
their  arduous  duties  in  drinking  and  voting  for  their 
constituents. 

"Then,  there  is  the  Mormons:  we  have  to  make  sooth 
ing  laws  to  sooth  them. 

"Then,  there  are  the  Chinese.  When  we  send  them 
back  into  heathendom,  we  ought  to  send  in  the  ship  with 
them,  some  appropriate  biblical  texts,  and  some  mottoes 
emblematical  of  our  national  eagle  protecting  and  clawing 
the  different  nations. 

"  And  when  we  send  the  Irish  paupers  back  into  pov 
erty  and  ignorance,  we  ought  to  send  in  the  same  ship, 
some  resolutions  condemning  England  for  her  treatment 
of  Ireland." 


SWEET  CICELY.  233 

Says  I,  "  Most  probable  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  Enlight- 
enin'  the  World,  in  New-York  Harbor,  will  hold  her 
torch  up  high,  to  light  such  ships  on  their  way." 

And  he  said,  "  Yes,  he  thought  so."  Says  he,  "  There 
is  very  important  laws  up  before  the  House,  now,  about 
hens'  eggs  —  counting  them."  And  says  he,  "Taking  it 
with  all  those  I  have  spoke  of  and  other  kindred  laws, 
and  the  constant  strain  on  our  minds  in  trying  to  pass 
laws  to  increase  our  own  salaries,  you  can  see  just  how 
cramped  we  are  for  time.  And  though  we  would  love  to 
pass  some  laws  of  Truth  and  Righteousness,  —  we  fairly 
ache  to,  —  yet,  not  having  the  requisite  time,  we  are  ob 
liged  to  lay  'em  on  the  table,  or  under  it." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  guess  I  might  jest  a  well  be  a  goinV 

I  bid  him  a  cool  good-bye,  and  started  for  the  door.  I 
was  discouraged ;  but  he  says  as  I  went  out,  — 

"  Mebby  William  Wallace  will  do  the  errent  for  you." 

Says  I  coldly,  — 

"William  Wallace  is  dead,  and  you  know  it."  And 
says  I  with  a  real  lot  of  dignity,  "You  needn't  try  to 
impose  on  me,  or  Dorlesky's  errent,  by  tryin'  to  send  me 
round  amongst  them  old  Scottish  chiefs.  I  respect  them 
old  chiefs,  and  always  did;  and  I  don't  relish  any  light 
talk  about  'em." 

Says  he,  "  This  is  another  William  Wallace ;  and  very 
probable  he  can  do  the  errent." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  will  send  the  errent  to  him  by  Bub 
Smith  ;  for  I  am  wore  out." 

As  I  wended  my  way  out  of  Mr.  Blains'es,  I  met  the 
hired  man,  Bub  Smith's  friend  ;  and  he  asked  me,  — 

"  If  I  didn't  want  to  visit  the  Capitol  ?  " 


234  SWEET  CICELY. 

Says  I,  "Where  the  laws  of  the  United  States  are 
made?" 

"  Yes,"  says  he. 

And  I  told  him  "  that  I  was  very  weary,  but  I  would 
fain  behold  it." 

And  he  said  he  was  going  right  by  there  on  business, 
and  he  would  be  glad  to  show  it  to  me.  So  we  walked 
along  in  that  direction. 

It  seems  that  Bub  Smith  saved  the  life  of  his  little  sister 
— jumped  off  into  the  water  when  she  was  most  drowned, 
and  dragged  her  out.  And  from  that  time  the  two  fami 
lies  have  thought  the  world  of  each  other.  That  is  what 
made  him  so  awful  good  to  me. 

Wall,  I  found  the  Capitol  was  a  sight  to  behold  !  Why, 
it  beat  any  buildin'  in  Jonesville,  or  Loontown,  or  Spoon 
Settlement  in  beauty  and  size  and  grandeur.  There  hain't 
one  that  can  come  nigh  it.  Why,  take  all  the  meetin'- 
housen  of  these  various  places,  and  put  'em  all  together, 
and  put  several  other  meetin'-housen  on  top  of  'em,  and 
they  wouldn't  begin  to  show  off  with  it. 

And,  oh !  my  land  !  to  stand  in  the  hall  below,  and  look 
up  —  and  up  —  and  up  —  and  see  all  the  colors  of  the  rain 
bow,  and  see  what  kinder  curious  and  strange  pictures 
there  wuz  way  up  there  in  the  sky  above  me  (as  it  were). 
Why,  it  seemed  curiouser  than  any  Northern  lights  I  ever 
see  in  my  life,  and  they  stream  up  dretful  curious  some 
times. 

And  as  I  walked  through  the  various  lofty  and  magnifi 
cent  halls,  and  realized  the  size  and  majestic  proportions 
of  the  buildin',  I  wondered  to  myself  that  a  small  law,  a 
little,  unjust  law,  could  ever  be  passed  in  such  a  magnifi 
cent  place. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


235 


Says  I  to  myself,  "  It  can't  be  the  fault  of  the  place, 
anyway.     They  have  got  a  chance  for  their  souls  to  soar 


SAMANTHA   VIEWING   THE   CAPITOL. 

if  they  want  to."     Thinks'es  I,  here  is  room  and  to  spare, 
to  pass  by  laws  big  as  elephants  and  camels.     And  I  won- 


236  SWEET  CICELY. 

dered  to  myself  that  they  should  ever  try  to  pass  laws  and 
resolutions  as  small  as  muskeeters  and  nats.  Thinks'es  I, 
I  wonder  them  little  laws  don't  get  to  strollin'  round  and 
get  lost  in  them  magnificent  corriders.  But  I  consoled 
myself  a  thinkin'  that  it  wouldn't  be  no  great  loss  if  they 
did. 

But  right  here,  as  I  was  a  thinkin'  on  these  deep  and 
lofty  subjects,  the  hired  man  spoke  up ;  and  says  he,  — 

"  You  look  fatigued,  mom."  (Soarin'  even  to  yourself, 
is  tuckerin'.)  "  You  look  very  fatigued :  won't  you  take 
something  ?  " 

I  looked  at  him  with  a  curious,  silent  sort  of  a  look ; 
for  1  didn't  know  what  he  meant. 

Agin  he.  looked  close  at  me,  and  sort  o'  pityin' ;  and 
says  he,  "You  look  tired  out,  mom.  Won't  you  take 
something  ?  " 

Says  I,  "What?" 

Says  he,  "Let  me  treat  you  to  something:  what  will 
you  take,  mom  ?  " 

Wall,  I  thought  he  was  actin'  dretful  liberal ;  but  I 
knew  they  had  strange  ways  there  in  Washington,  anyway. 
And  I  didn't  know  but  it  was  their  way  to  make  some 
presents  to  every  woman  who  come  there:  and  I  didn't 
want  to  be  odd,  and  act  awkward,  and  out  of  style ;  so  I 
says,  — 

"  I  don't  want  to  take  any  thing,  and  I  don't  see  any 
reason  why  you  should  insist  on  it.  But,  if  I  have  got  to 
take  somethin',  I  had  jest  as  lives  have  a  few  yards  of  fac 
tory-cloth  as  any  thing." 

I  thought,  if  he  was  determined  to  treat  me,  to  show  his 
good  feelin's  towards  me,  I  would  get  somethin'  useful, 


SWEET  CICELY.  237 

and  that  would  do  me  some  good,  else  what  would  be  the 
use  of  bein'  treated  ?  And  I  thought,  if  I  had  got  to  take 
a  present  from  a  strange  man,  I  would  make  a  shirt  for 
Josiah  out  of  it :  I  thought  that  would  make  it  all  right, 
so  fur  as  goodness  went. 

But  says  he,  "  I  mean  beer,  or  wine,  or  liquor  of  some 
kind." 

I  jest  riz  right  up  in  my  shoes  and  my  dignity,  and 
glared  at  him. 

Says  he,  "There  is  a  saloon  right  here  handy  in  the 
buildin'." 

Says  I,  in  awful  axents,  "  It  is  very  appropriate  to  have 
it  right  here  handy."  Says  I,  "  Liquor  does  more  towards 
makin'  the  laws  of  the  United  States,  from  caucus  to  con 
vention,  than  any  thing  else  does ;  and  it  is  highly  proper 
to  have  some  liquor  here  handy,  so  they  can  soak  the  laws 
in  it  right  off,  before  they  lay  'em  onto  the  tables,  or  under 
'em,  or  pass  'em  onto  the  people.  It  is  highly  appropriate," 
says  I. 

"Yes,"  says  he.  "It  is  very  handy  for  the  senators. 
And  let  me  get  you  a  glass." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  says  I  firmly,  "  no,  you  won't.  The 
nation  suffers  enough  from  that  room  now,  without  havin' 
Josiah  Allen's  wife  let  in." 

Says  he  (his  friendship  for  Bub  Smith  makin'  him 
anxious  and  sot  on  helpin'  me),  "  If  you  have  any  feeling 
of  delicacy  in  going  in  there,  let  me  make  some  wine  here. 
I  will  get  a  glass  of  water,  and  make  you  some  pure  grape 
wine,  or  French  brandy,  or  corn  or  rye  whiskey.  I  have 
all  the  drugs  right  here."  And  he  took  out  a  little  box 
out  of  his  pocket.  "  My  father  is  a  importer  of  rare  old 


238 


SWEET  CICELY. 


wines,  and  I  know  just  how  it  is  done.  I  have  'em  all 
here,  —  capiscum,  coculus  Indicus,  alum,  coperas,  strych 
nine.  I  will  make  some  of  the  choicest  and  purest  im- 


SAMANTHA   REFUSING   TO   BE   TREATED. 

ported  liquors  we  have  in  the  country,  in  five  minutes,  if 
you  say  so." 

"  No,"  says  I  firmly.  "  When  I  want  to  follow  up  Cleo 
patra's  fashion,  and  commit  suicide,  I  am  goin'  to  hire  a 
rattlesnake,  and  take  my  poison  as  she  did,  011  the  out 
side." 


SWEET  CICELY.  239 

"  Cleopatra  ?  "  says  he  inquiringly.  "  Is  she  a  Washing 
ton  lady?" 

And  I  says  guardedly,  "  She  has  lots  of  relations  here, 
I  believe." 

"Wall,"  he  said,  "he  thought  her  name  sounded  familiar. 
Then,  I  can't  do  any  thing  for  you  ?  "  he  says. 

"  Yes,"  says  I  calmly :  "  you  can  open  the  front  door, 
and  let  me  out." 

Which  he  did,  and  I  was  glad  enough  to  get  out  into 
the  pure  air. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  house,  I  found  they  had  been 
to  supper.  Sally  had  had  company  that  afternoon,  —  her 
husband's  brother.  He  had  jest  left. 

He  lived  only  a  few  milds  away,  and  had  come  in  on 
the  cars.  Sally  said  he  wanted  to  stay  and  see  me  the 
worst  kind:  he  wanted  to  throw  out  some  'deep  argu 
ments  aginst  wimmen's  suffrage.  Says  she,  "  He  talks 
powerful  about  it :  he  would  have  convinced  you,  with 
out  a  doubt." 

"Wall,"  says  I,  "why  didn't  he  stay?" 

She  said  he  had  to  hurry  home  on  account  of  business. 
He  had  come  in  to  the  village,  to  get  some  money.  There 
was  goin'  to  be  a  lot  of  men,  wimmen,  and  children  sold 
in  his  neighborhood  the  next  mornin',  and  he  thought  he 
should  buy  a  girl,  if  he  could  find  a  likely  one. 

"  Sold  ?  "  says  I,  in  curious  axents. 

"  Yes,"  says  Sally.  "  They  sell  the  inmates  of  the  poor- 
house,  every  year,  to  the  highest  bidder,  —  sell  their  labor 
by  the  year.  They  have  'em  get  up  on  a  auction  block, 
and  hire  a  auctioneer,  and  sell  'em  at  so  much  a  head,  to 


240 


SWEET  CICELY. 


the  crowd.     Why,  some  of  'em  bring  as  high  as  twenty 
dollars  a  year,  besides  board. 

"  Sometimes,  he  said,  there  was  quite  a  run  011  old  wim- 


men,  and  another  year  on  young  ones.  He  didn't  know 
but  he  might  buy  a  old  woman.  He  said  there  was  an  old 
woman  that  he  thought  there  was  a  good  deal  of  work  in, 
yet.  She  had  belonged  to  one  of  the  first  families  in  the 


SWEET  CICELY.  241 

State,  and  had  come  down  to  poverty  late  in  life,  through 
the  death  of  some  of  her  relations,  and  the  villany  of 
others.  So  he  thought  she  had  more  strength  in  her  than 
if  she  had  always  been  worked.  "  He  thought,  if  she  didn't 
fetch  too  big  a  price,  he  should  buy  her  instead  of  a  young 
one.  They  was  so  balky,  he  said,  young  ones  was,  and 
would  need  more  to  eat,  bein'  growin'.  And  she  could  do 
rough,  heavy  work,  just  as  well  as  a  younger  one,  and 
probably  wouldn't  complain  so  much ;  and  he  thought  she 
would  last  a  year,  anyway.  It  was  his  way,  he  said,  to  put 
'em  right  through,  and,  when  one  Avore  out,  get  another 
one." 

I  sithed ;  and  says  I,  "I  feel  to  lament  that  I  wuzn't 
here  so's  he  could  have  converted  me."  Says  I,  "  A  race 
of  bein's,  that  make  such  laws  as  these,  hadn't  ort  to  be 
disturbed  by  wimmen  meddlin'  with  'em." 

"Yes:  that  is  what  he  said,"  says  Sally,  in  a  innocent 
way. 

I  didn't  say  no  more.  Good  land  !  Sally  hain't  to  blame. 
But  with  a  noble  scorn  filling  my  eye,  and  floating  out  the 
strings  of  my  head-dress,  I  moved  off  to  bed. 

Wall,  the  next  mornin'  I  sent  Dorlesky's  errents  by  Rub 
Smith  to  William  Wallace,  for  I  felt  a  good  deal  fagged 
out.  Bub  did  'em  well,  and  I  know  it. 

But  William  Wallace  sent  him  to  Gen.  Logan. 

And  Gen.  Logan  said  Grover  Cleveland  was  the  one  to 
go  to  :  he  wuz  a  sot  man,  and  would  do  as  he  agreed.  And 
Mr.  Cleveland  sent  him  to  Mr.  Edmunds. 

And  Mr.  Edmunds  told  him  to  go  to  Samuel  G.  Tilden, 
or  Roswell  P.  Flower. 

And  Mr.  Flower  sent  him  to  William  Walter  Phelps. 


242  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  Mr.  Phelps  said  that  Benjamin  F.  Butler  or  Mr. 
Bayard  was  the  one  to  do  the  errent. 

And  Mr.  Bayard  sent  him  to  somebody  else,  and  some 
body  else  sent  him  to  another  one.  And  so  it  went  on ; 
and  Bub  Smith  traipsed  round,  a  carryin'  them  errents, 
from  one  man  to  another,  till  he  was  most  dead. 

Why,  he  carried  them  errents  round  all  day,  walkin' 
afoot. 

Bub  said  most  every  one  of  'em  said  the  errents  wuz 
just  and  right,  but  they  couldn't  do  'em,  and  wouldn't  tell 
their  reasons. 

One  or  two,  Bub  said,  opposed  it,  because  they  said  right 
out  plain,  "  that  they  wanted  to  drink.  They  wanted  to 
drink  every  thing  they  could,  and  everywhere  they  could, 
—  hard  cider  and  beer,  and  brandy  and  whisky,  and  every 
thing." 

And  they  didn't  want  wimmen  to  vote,  because  they 
liked  to  have  the  power  in  their  own  hands  :  they  loved  to 
control  things,  and  kinder  boss  round  —  loved  to  dearly. 

These  was  open-hearted  men  who  spoke  as  they  felt. 
But  they  was  exceptions.  Most  every  one  of  'em  said 
they  couldn't  do  it,  and  wouldn't  tell  their  reasons. 

Till  way  along  towards  night,  a  senator  he  had  been 
sent  to,  bein'  a  little  in  liquor  at  the  time,  and  bein'  talka 
tive  ;  he  owned  up  the  reasons  why  the  senators  wouldn't 
do  the  errents. 

He  said  they  all  knew  in  their  own  hearts,  both  of  the 
errents  was  right  and  just,  to  their  own  souls  and  their 
own  country.  He  said  —  for  the  liquor  had  made  him  very 
open-hearted  and  talkative  —  that  they  knew  the  course 
they  was  pursuin'  in  regard  to  intemperance  was  a  crime 


SWEET  CICELY.  243 

against  God  and  their  own  consciences.  But  they  didn't 
dare  to  tackle  unpopular  subjects. 

He  said  they  knew  they  was  elected  by  liquor,  a  good 
many  of  them,  and  they  knew,  if  they  voted  against 
whisky,  it  would  deprive  'em  of  thousands  and  thousands 
of  voters,  dillegent  voters,  who  would  vote  for  'em  from 
morn  in'  till  night,  and  so  they  dassent  tackle  the  ring. 
And  if  wimmen  was  allowed  to  vote,  they  knew  it  was 
jest  the  same  thing  as  breaking  the  ring  right  in  two,  and 
destroying  intemperance.  So,  though  they  knew  that 
both  the  errents  was  jest  as  right  as  right  could  be,  they 
dassent  tackle  'em,  for  fear  they  wouldn't  run  no  chance 
at  all  of  bein'  President  of  the  United  States. 

"  Good  land  !  "  says  I.  "  What  a  idee  !  to  think  that 
doin'  right  would  make  a  man  unpopular.  But,"  says  I, 
"  I  am  glad  to  know  they  have  got  a  reason,  if  it  is  a  poor 
one.  I  didn't  know  but  they  sent  you  round  jest  to  be 
mean." 

Wall,  the  next  mornin'.  I  told  Bub  to  carry  the  errents 
right  into  the  Senate.  Says  I,  "  You  have  took  'em  one  by 
one,  alone,  now  you  jest  carry  'em  before  the  hull  batch 
on  'em  together."  I  told  him  to  tackle  the  hull  crew  on 
'em.  So  he  jest  walked  right  into  the  Senate,  a  carryin' 
Dorlesky's  errents. 

And  he  come  back  skairt.  He  said,  jest  as  he  was  a 
carryin'  Dorlesky's  errents  in,  a  long  petition  come  from 
thousands  and  thousands  of  wimmen  on  this  very  subject. 
A  plea  for  justice  and  mercy,  sent  in  respectful,  to  "the  law 
makers  of  the  land. 

And  he  said  the  men  jeered  at  it,  and  thro  wed  it  round 
the  room,  and  called  it  all  to  nort,  and  made  the  meanest 


244  SWEET  CICELY. 

speeches  about  it  you  ever  heard,  talked  nasty,  and  finally 
threw  it  under  the  table,  and  acted  so  haughty  and  ovei- 
bearin'  towards  it,  that  Bub  said  he  was  afraid  to  tackle 
'em.  He  said  "he  knew  they  would  throw  Dorlesky's 
errents  under  the  table,  and  he  was  afraid  they  would 
throw  him  under  too."  He  was  afraid  —  (he  owned  it  up 
to  me)  —  he  was  afraid  they  would  knock  him  down.  So 
he  backed  out  with  Dorlesky's  errents,  and  never  give  it 
to  'em  at  all. 

And  I  told  him  he  did  right.  "  For,"  says  I,  "  if  they 
wouldn't  listen  to  the  deepest,  most  earnest,  and  most 
prayerful  words  that  could  come  from  the  hearts  of  thou 
sands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  the  best  mothers  and  wives 
and  daughters  in  America,  the  most  intelligent  and  upright 
and  pure-minded  women  in  the  land,  loaded  down  with 
their  hopes,  wet  with  their  tears  —  if  they  turned  their 
hearts'  prayers  and  deepest  desires  into  ridicule,  throwed 
'em  round  under  their  feet,  they  wouldn't  pay  no  attention 
to  Dorlesky's  errents,  they  wouldn't  notice  one  little  vegi- 
table  widow,  humbly  at  that,  and  sort  o'  disagreeable." 
And  says  I,  "  I  don't  want  Dorlesky's  errents  throwed 
round  under  foot,  and  she  made  fun  of:  she  has  went 
through  enough  trials  and  tribulations,  besides  these  gen 
tlemen  —  or,"  says  I,  "  I  beg  pardon  of  Webster's  Diction 
ary  :  I  meant  men." 

"  For,"  as  I  said  to  Webster's.  Dictionary  in  confidence, 
in  a  quiet  thought  we  had  about  it  afterwards,  "  they 
might  be  gentlemen  in  every  other  place  on  earth ;  but  in 
this  one  move  of  theirn,"  as  I  observed  confidentially  to 
the  Dictionary,  "  they  was  jest  men  —  the  male  animal  of 
the  human  species." 


SWEET  CICELY. 


245 


And  I  was  ashamed  enough  as  I  looked  Noah  Webster's 
steel  engraving  in  the  face,  to  think  I  had  misspoke  my 
self,  and  called  'em  gentlemen. 


HOW  WOMAN'S  PBAYEBS  AKE  ANSWERED. 

Wall,  from  that  minute  I  gin  up  doin'  Dorlesky's  errents. 
And  I  felt  like  death  about  it.  But  this  thought  held  me 
up,  —  that  I  had  done  my  best.  But  I  didn't  feel  like 


246  SWEET  CICELY. 

doin'  another  thing  all  the  rest  of  that  day,  only  jest  feel 
disapinted  and  grieved  over  my  bad  luck  with  the  errents. 
I  always  think  it  is  best,  if  you  can  possibly  arrainge  it  in 
that  way,  to  give  up  one  day,  or  half  a  day,  to  feelin'  bad 
over  any  perticuler  disapintment,  or  to  worry  about  any 
thing,  and  do  all  your  worryiii'  up  in  that  time,  and  then 
give  it  up  for  good,  and  go  to  feelin'  happy  agin.  It  is  also 
best,  if  you  have  had  a  hull  lot  of  things  to  get  mad  about, 
to  set  apart  half  a  day,  when  you  can  spare  the  time,  and 
do  up  all  your  resentin'  in  that  time.  It  is  easier,  and 
takes  less  time  than  to  keep  resentin'  'em  as  they  take 
place  ;  and  you  can  feel  clever  quicker  than  in  the  com 
mon  way. 

Wall,  I  felt  dretful  bad  for  Dorlesky  and  the  hull  wim- 
men  race  of  the  land,  and  for  the  men  too.  And  I  kep'  up 
my  bad  feelin's  till  pretty  nigh  dusk.  But  as  I  see  the 
sun  go  down,  and  the  sky  grow  dark,  I  says,  — 

"  You  are  goin'  down  now,  but  you  are  a  comin'  up  agin. 
As  sure  as  the  Lord  lives,  the  sun  will  shine  agin ;  and 
He  who  holds  you  in  His  hand,  holds  the  destinies  of  the 
nations.  He  will  watch  over  you,  and  me  and  Josiah,  and 
Dorlesky.  He  will  help  us,  and  take  care  of  us." 

So  I  begun  to  feel  real  well  agin  —  a  little  after  dusk. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  next  morning  Cicely  wuzn't  able  to  leave  her  room, 
—  not  sick  seemin'ly,  but  fagged  out.  She  was  a  delicate 
little  creeter  always,  and  seemed  to  grow  delicater  every 
day. 

So  Miss  Smith  went  with  me,  and  she  and  I  sallied  out 
alone :  her  name  behv  Sally,  too,  made  it  seem  more  singu- 
ler  and  coincidin'. 

She  asked  me  if  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  the  Patent 
Office. 

And  I  told  her,  "  Yes."  And  I  told  her  of  Betsy  Bob- 
bet's  errent,  and  that  Josiah  had  charged  me  expresly  to 
go  there,  and  get  him  a  patent  pail.  He  needed  a  new 
milk-pail,  and  thought  I  could  get  it  cheaper  right  on  the 
spot. 

And  she  said  that  Josiah  couldn't  buy  his  pail  there. 
But  she  told  me  what  sights  and  sights  of  things  there 
wus  to  be  seen  there ;  and  I  found  out  w^hen  I  got  there, 
that  she  hadn't  told  me  the  i  or  the  i  of  the  sights  I 
see. 

Why,  I  could  pass  a  month  there  in  perfect  destraction 
and  happiness,  the  sights  are  so  numerous,  and  exceed 
ingly  destractin'  and  curious. 

247 


248  SWEET  CICELY. 

But  I  told  Sally  Smith  plainly,  that  I  wasn't  half  so 
much  interested  in  apple-parers  and  snow-plows,  and  the 
first  sewin'-machine  and  the  last  one,  and  steam-engines 
and  hair-pins  and  pianos  and  thimbles,  and  the  acres  and 
acres  of  glass  cases  containing  every  thing  that  wus  ever 
heard  of,  and  every  thing  that  never  wus  heard  of  by  any 
body,  and  etcetery,  etcetery,  and  so  4th,  and  so  4th.  And 
you  might  string  them  words  out  over  choirs  and  choirs  of 
paper,  and  not  get  half  an  idee  of  what  is  to  be  seen  there. 

But  I  told  her  I  didn't  feel  half  so  interested  in  them 
things  as  I  did  in  the  copyright.  I  told  Sally  plain  "  that 
I  wanted  to  see  the  place  where  the  copyrights  on  books 
was  made.  And  I  wanted  to  see  the  man  who  made  'em. 

And  she  asked  me  "  Why  ?  What  made  me  so  anx 
ious?" 

And  I  told  her  "  the  law  was  so  curious,  that  I  believed 
it  would  be  the  curiousest  place,  and  he  would  be  the 
curiousest  lookin'  creeter,  that  wuz  ever  seen."  Says  I, 
"  I'll  bet  it  will  be  better  than  a  circus  to  see  him." 

But  it  wuzn't.  He  looked  jest  like  any  man.  And  he 
had  a  sort  of  a  smart  look  onto  him.  Sally  said  "  it  was 
one  of  the  clerks,"  but  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I 
believe  it  was  the  man  himself,  who  made  the  law;  for,  as 
in  all  other  emergincies  of  life,  I  follered  Duty,  and  asked 
him  "  to  change  the  law  instantly." 

And  he  as  good  as  promised  me  he  would. 

I  talked  deep  to  him  about  it,  but  short.  I  told  him 
Josiah  had  bought  a  mair,  and  he  expected  to  own  it  till 
he  or  the  mair  died.  He  didn't  expect  to  give  up  his 
right  to  it,  and  let  the  mair  canter  off  free  at  a  stated 
time. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


249 


SAMANTHA    AND   SALLY   IN   THE   PATENT   OFFICE. 


250  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  he  asked  me  "  Who  Josiah  was  ? "  and  I  told 
him. 

And  I  told  him  that  "  Josiah's  farm  run  along  one  side  of 
a  pond ;  and  if  one  of  his  sheep  got  over  on  the  other  side, 
it  was  sheep  jest  the  same,  and  it  was  hisen  jest  the  same : 
he  didn't  lose  the  right  to  it,  because  it  happened  to  cross 
the  pond." 

Says  he,  "  There  would  be  better  laws  regarding  copy 
right,  if  it  wuzn't  for  selfishness  on  both  sides  of  the 
pond." 

4- Wall,"  says  I,  "selfishness  don't  pay  in  the  long-run." 
And  then,  thinkin'  mebby  if  I  made  myself  agreable  and 
entertain  in',  he  would  change  the  law  quicker,  I  made  a 
effort,  and  related  a  little  inter estin'  incident  that  I  had 
seen  take  place  jest  before  my  former  departure  from 
Jonesville,  on  a  tower. 

"  No,  selfishness  don't  pay.  I  have  seen  it  tried,  and  I 
know.  Now,  Bildad  Henzy  married  a  wife  on  a  speculation. 
She  was  a  one-legged  woman.  He  was  attached  at  the  time 
to  a  woman  with  the  usual  number  of  feet ;  but  he  was  so 
close  a  calculator,  that  he  thought  it  would  be  money  in 
his  pocket  to  marry  this  one,  for  he  wouldn't  have  to  buy 
but  one  shoe  and  stockin'.  But  she  had  to  jump  round 
on  that  one  foot,  and  step  heavy ;  so  she  wore  out  more 
shoes  than  she  would  if  she  was  two-footed."  Says  I, 
"  Selfishness  don't  pay  in  private  life  or  in  politics." 

And  he  said  "  He  thought  jest  so,"  and  he  jest  about 
the  same  as  promised  me  he  would  change  the  law. 

I  hope  he  will.  It  makes  me  feel  so  strange  every  time 
I  think  out,  as  strange  as  strange  can  be. 

Why,  I  told  Sally  after  we  went  out,  and  I  spoke  about 


SWEET  CICELY.  251 

"the  man  lookin'  human,  and  jest  like  anybody  else  ;  "  and 
she  said  "it  was  a  clerk;"  and  I  said  "I  knew  better,  I 
knew  it  was  the  man  himself." 

And  says  I  agin,  "  It  beats  all,  how  anybody  in  human 
shape  can  make  such  a  law  as  that  copyright  law." 

And  she  said  "  that  was  so."  But  I  knew  by  her  mean, 
that  she  didn't  understand  a  thing  about  it ;  and  I  knew 
it  would  make  me  so  sort  o'  light-headed  and  vacant  if  I 
went  to  explain  it  to  her,  that  I  never  said  a  word,  and 
fell  in  at  once  with  her  proposal  that  we  should  go  and  see 
the  Treasury,  and  the  Corcoran  Art  Gallery,  and  the 
Smithsonian  Institute,  one  at  a  time. 

And  I  found  the  Treasury  wuz  a  sight  to  behold.  Such 
sights  and  sights  of  money  they  are  makin'  there,  and  a 
countin'.  Why,  I  s'pose  they  make  more  money  there  in 
a  week,  than  Josiah  and  I  spend  in  a  year. 

I  s'pose  most  probable  they  made  it  a  little  faster,  and 
more  of  it,  on  account  of  my  bein'  there.  But  they  have 
sights  and  sights  of  it.  They  are  dretful  well  off. 

I  asked  Sally,  and  I  spoke  out  kinder  loud  too,  —  I 
hain't  one  of  the  underhanded  kind,  —  I  asked  her,  "  If 
she  s'posed  they'd  let  us  take  hold  and  make  a  little  money 
for  ourselves,  they  seemed  to  be  so  runnin'  over  with  it, 
there." 

And  she  said,  "No,  private  citizens  couldn't  do  that." 

Says  I,  "  Who  can  ?  " 

She  kinder  whispered  back  in  a  skairt  way,  sunthin' 
about  "  speculators  and  legislators  and  rings,  and  etcetery." 

But  I  answered  right  out  loud,  —  I  hain't  one  to  go 
whisperin'  round,  —  and  says  I,  — 

"  I'll  bet  if  Uncle  Sam  himself  was  here,  and  knew  the 


252  SWEET  CICELY. 

feelin's  I  had  for  him,  he'd  hand  out  a  few  dollars  of  his 
own  accord  for  me  to  get  sunthiii'  to  remember  him  by. 
Howsumever,  I  don't  need  nor  want  any  of  his  money.  I 
hain't  beholden  to  him  nor  any  man.  I  have  got  over 
fourteen  dollars  by  me,  at  this  present  time,  egg-money." 

But  it  was  a  sight  to  behold,  to  see  'em  make  it. 

And  then,  as  we  stood  out  on  the  sidewalk  agin,  the 
Smithsonian  Institute  passed  through  my  mind ;  and  then 
the  Corcoran  Art  Gallery  passed  through  it,  and  several 
other  big,  noble  buildin's.  But  I  let  'em  pass ;  and  I  says 
to  Sally,  — 

"Let  us  go  at  once  and  see  the  man  that  makes  the 
public  schools."  Says  I,  "  There  is  a  man  that  I  honor, 
and  almost  love." 

And  she  said  she  didn't  know  who  it  wuz. 

But  I  think  it  was  the  lamb  that  she  had  in  a  bakin', 
that  drew  her  back  towards  home.  She  owned  up  that 
her  hired  girl  didn't  baste  it  enough. 

And  she  seemed  oneasy. 

But  I  stood  firm,  and  says,  "  I  shall  see  that  man,  lamb 
or  no  lamb." 

And  then  Sally  gfve  in.  And  she  found  him  easy 
enough.  She  knew  all  the  time,  it  was  the  sheep  that 
hampered  her. 

And,  oh!  I  s'pose  it  was  a  sight  to  be  remembered, 
to  see  my  talk  to  that  man.  I  s'pose,  if  it  had  been 
printed,  it  would  have  made  a  beautiful  track  —  and 
lengthy. 

Why,  he  looked  fairly  exhausted  and  cross  before  I  got 
half  through,  I  talked  so  smart  (eloquence  is  tuckerin'). 

I  told  him  how  our  public  schools  was  the  hope  of  the 


SWEET  CICELY.  253 

nation.  How  they  neutralized  to  a  certain  extent  the  other 
schools  the  nation  allowed  to  the  public,  —  the  grog-shops, 
and  other  licensed  places  of  ruin.  I  told  him  how  pretty 
it  looked  to  me  to  see  Civilization  a  marchin'  along  from 
the  Atlantic  towards  the  Pacific,  with  a  spellin'-book  in  one 
hand,  and  in  the  other  the  rosy,  which  she  was  a  plan  tin' 
in  place  of  the  briars  and  brambles. 

And  I  told  him  how  highly  I  approved  of  compulsory 
education. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  if  anybody  is  a  drowndin',  you  don't 
ask  their  consent  to  be  drawed  out  of  the  water,  you  jest 
jump  in,  and  yank  'em  out.  And  when  you  see  poor  little 
ones,  a  sinkin'  down  in  the  deep  waters  of  ignorance  and 
brutality,  why,  jest  let  Uncle  Sam  reach  right  down,  and 
draw  'em  out."  Says  1,  "  I'll  bet  that  is  why  he  is  pictered 
as  havin'  such  long  arms  for,  and  long  legs  too,  —  so  he 
can  wade  in  if  the  water  is  deep,  and  they  are  too  fur  from 
the  shore  for  his  arms  to  reach." 

And  says  I,  "  In  the  case  of  the  little  Indian,  and  other 
colored  children,  he'll  need  the  legs  of  a  stork,  the  water 
is  so  deep  round  'em.  But  he'll  reach  'em,  Uncle  Sam  will. 
He'll  lift  'em  right  up  in  his  long  arms,  and  set  'em  safe 
on  the  pleasant  shore.  You'll  see  that  he  will.  Uncle  Sam 
is  a  man  of  a  thousand." 

Says  I,  "  How  much  it  wus  like  him,  to  pass  that  law 
for  children  to  be  learnt  jest  what  whisky  is,  and  what  it 
will  do.  Why,"  says  I,  "in  that  very  law  Christianity 
has  took  a  longer  stride  than  she  could  take  by  millions  of 
sermons,  all  divided  off  into  tenthlies  and  tweiitiethlies." 

Why,  I  s'pose  I  talked  perfectly  beautiful  to  that  man : 
I  s'pose  so. 


254  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  if  he  hadn't  had  a  sudden  engagement  to  go  out, 
I  should  have  talked  longer.  But  I  see  his  engagement 
wus  a  wearin'  on  him.  His  eyes  looked  fairly  wild.  I 
only  give  a  bald  idee  of  what  I  said.  I  have  only  give  the 
heads  of  my  discussion  to  him,  jest  the  bald  heads. 

Wall,  after  we  left  there,  I  told  Sally  I  felt  as  if  I  must- 
go  and  see  the  Peace  Commission.  I  felt  as  if  I  must 
make  some  arrangements  with  'em  to  not  have  any  more 
wars.  As  I  told  Sally,  "  We  might  jest  as  well  call  our 
selves  Injuns  and  savages  at  once,  if  we  had  to  keep  up 
this  most  savage  and  brutal  trait  of  theirn."  Says  I  firmly, 
"  I  must,  before  I  go  back  to  Jonesville,  tend  to  it."  Says 
I,  "  I  didn't  come  here  for  fashion,  or  dry-goods ;  though 
I  s'pose  lots  of  both  of  'em  are  to  be  got  here."  Says  I,  "  I 
may  tend  to  one  or  two  fashionable  parties,  or  levys  as 
I  s'pose  they  call  'em  here.  I  may  go  to  'em  ruther  than 
hurt  the  feelin's  of  the  upper  10.  I  want  to  do  right :  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  the  feelin's  of  them  10.  They  have 
hearts,  and  they  are  sensitive.  I  don't  think  I  have  ever 
took  to  them  10,  as  much  as  I  have  to  some  others ;  but  I 
wish  'em  well. 

"  And  I  s'pose  you  see  as  grand  and  curious  people  to 
their  parties  here,  as  you  can  see  together  in  any  other 
place  on  the  globe. 

"I  s'pose  it  is  a  sight  to  behold,  to  see  'em  together. 
To  see  them,  as  the  poet  says,  '  To  the  manner  born,'  and 
them  that  wasn't  born  in  the  same  manor,  but  tryin'  to 
act  as  if  they  was.  Wealth  and  display,  natural  courtesy 
and  refinement,  walkin'  side  by  side  with  pretentius  vul 
garity,  and  mebby  poverty  bringin'  up  the  rear.  Genius 
and1  folly,  honesty  and  affectation,  gentleness  and  sweet- 


SWEET  CICELY. 


255 


ness,  and  brazen  impudence,  and  hatred  and  malice,  and 
envy  and  imcharitableness.  All  languages  and  peoples 
under  the  sun,  and  differing  more  than  stars  ever  did,  one 
from  another. 

"  And  what  makes  it  more  curious  and  mysterius  is,  the 


SAMANTHA   AT   THE   PRESIDENT'S   RECEPTION. 

way  they  dress,  some  on  'em.  Why,  they  say  —  it  has 
come  right  straight  to  me  by  them  that  know  —  that  the 
ladies  wear  what  they  call  full  dress ;  and  the  strange  and 


256  SWEET  CICELY. 

mysterius  part  of  it  is,  that  the  fuller  the  dress  is,  the  less 
they  have  on  'em. 

"  This  is  a  deep  subject,  and  queer ;  and  I  don't  s'pose 
you  will  take  my  word  for  it,  and  I  don't  want  you  to. 
But  I  have  been  told  so. 

"Why,  I  s'pose  them  upper  10  have  their  hands  full, 
their  20  hands  completely  full.  I  fairly  pity  'em  —  the 
hull  10  of  'em.  They  want  me,  and  they  need  me,  I 
s'pose,  and  I  must  tend  to  some  of  'em. 

"  And  then,"  says  I,  "  I  did  calculate  to  pay  some  atten 
tion  to  store-clothes.  I  did  want  to  get  me  a  new  calico 
dress,  —  London  brown  with  a  set  flower  on  it.  But  I 
can  do  without  that  dress,  and  the  upper  10  can  do 
without  me,  better  than  the  Nation  can  do  without 
Peace." 

I  felt  as  if  I  must  tend  to  it :  I  fairly  hankered  to  do 
away  with  war,  immejiately  and  to  once.  But  I  knew 
right  was  right,  and  I  felt  that  Sally  ort  to  be  let  to  tend 
to  her  lamb ;  so  Sally  and  I  sallied  homewards. 

But  the  hired  girl  had  tended  to  it  well.  It  wus  good 
—  very  good. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

WALL,  the  next  mornin'  Cicely  wus  better,  and  we  sot 
sail  for  Mount  Vernon.  It  was  about  ten  o'clock  A.M. 
when  I,  accompanied  by  Cicely  and  the  boy,  sot  sail  from 
Washington,  D.C.,  to  perform  about  the  ostensible  reason 
of  my  tower,  —  to  weep  on  the  tomb  of  the  noble  G. 
Washington. 

My  intentions  had  been  and  wuz,  to  weep  for  him  011 
my  tower.  I  had  come  prepared.  2  linen  handkerchiefs 
and  a  large  cotton  one  reposed  in  the  pocket  of  my 
polenay,  and  I  had  on  my  new  waterproof.  I  never  do 
things  by  the  4s. 

It  was  a  beautiful  seen,  as  we  floated  down  the  still 
river,  to  look  back  and  see  the  Capitol  risin'  white  and 
fair  like  a  dream,  the  glitterin'  snow  of  the  monument, 
and  the  green  heights,  all  bathed  in  the  glory  of  that  per 
fect  May  mornin'.  It  wuz  a  fair  seen. 

Happy  groups  of  people  sot  on  the  peaceful  decks,  — 
stately  gentlemen,  handsome  ladies,  and  pretty  children. 
And  in  one  corner,  off  kinder  by  themselves,  sot  that 
band  of  dusky  singers,  whose  songs  have  delighted  the 
world.  Modest,  good-lookin'  dark  girls,  manly,  honest- 
lookin'  dark  boys. 

257 


258 


SWEET  CICELY. 


Only  a  few  short  years  ago  this  black  people  was  drove 
about  like  dumb  cattle,  —  bought  and  sold,  hunted  by 
blood-hounds ;  the  wimmen  hunted  to  infamy  and  ruin, 
the  men  to  torture  and  to  death.  The  wimmen  denied 
the  first  right  of  womanhood,  to  keep  themselves  pure. 
The  men  denied  the  first  right  of  manhood,  to  protect 


GOING   TO   MOUNT   VERNON. 


the  ones  they  loved.  Deprived  legally  of  purity  and 
honor,  and  all  the  rights  of  commonest  humanity  —  worn 
with  unpaid  toil,  beaten,  whipped,  tortured,  dispised  and 
rejected  of  men. 

Now,  a  few  short  years  have  passed  over  this  dark  race, 
and  these  children  of  slaves  that  I  looked  upon  have  been 
guests  of  the  proudest  and  noblest  in  this  and  in  foreign 
lands.  Hands  that  hold  the  destinies  of  mighty  empires 
have  clasped  theirs  in  frankest  friendship,  and  crowned 
heads  have  bowed  low  before  'em  to  hide  the  tears  their 


SWEET  CICELY.  259 

sweet  voices  have  called  forth.  What  feelin's  I  felt  as  I 
looked  on  'em !  and  my  soul  burned  inside  of  me,  almost 
to  the  extent  of  settin'  my  polenay  on  fire,  a  thinkin'  of 
all  this. 

And  pretty  soon,  right  when  I  was  a  reveryin'  —  right 
there,  when  we  wuz  a  floatin'  down  the  still  waters,  their 
voices  riz  up  in  one  of  their  inspired  songs.  They  sung 
about  their  "  Hard  Trials,"  and  how  the  "  Sweet  Chariot 
swung  low,"  and  how  they  had  "  Been  Redeemed." 

And  I  declare  for't,  as  I  listened  to  'em,  there  wuzn't 
a  dry  eye  in  my  head ;  and  I  wet  every  one  of  them  3 
handkerchiefs  that  I  had  calculated  to  mourn  for  G.  Wash 
ington  on,  wet  as  sop.  But  I  didn't  care.  I  knew  that 
George  had  ruther  not  be  mourned  for  on  dry  handker 
chiefs,  than  that  I  should  stent  myself  in  emotions  in 
such  a  time  as  this.  He  loved  Liberty  himself,  and  fit 
for  it.  And  anyway,  I  didn't  sense  what  I  was  a  doin', 
not  a  mite.  I  took  out  them  handkerchiefs  entirely  unbe 
known  to  me,  and  put  'em  back  unbeknown. 

The  words  of  them  songs  hain't  got  hardly  any  sense, 
as  we  earthly  bein's  count  sense ;  there  are  scores  of  great 
singers,  whose  trained  voices  are  a  hundred-fold  more 
melodious :  but  these  simple  strains  move  us,  thrill  us  ; 
they  jest  get  right  inside  of  our  hearts  and  souls,  and 
take  full  possession  of  us. 

It  seems  as  if  nothin'  human  of  so  little  importance 
could  so  move  us.  Is  it  God's  voice  that  speaks  to  us 
through  them?  Is  it  His  Spirit  that  lifts  us  up,  sways 
us  to  and  fro,  that  blows  upon  us,  as  we  listen  to  their 
voices  ?  The  Spirit  that  come  down  to  cheer  them  broken 
hearts,  lift  them  up  in  their  captivity,  does  it  now  sway 


260  SWEET  CICELY. 

and  melt  the  hearts  of  their  captors?  We  read  of  One 
who  watches  over  His  sorrowing,  wronged  people,  givin* 
them  "  songs  in  the  night." 

Anon,  or  nearly  at  that  time,  a  silver  bell  struck  out 
a  sweet  sort  of  a  mournful  note ;  and  we  jest  stood  right 
in  towards  the  shore,  and  disembarked  from  the  bark. 

We  clomb  the  long  hill,  and  stood  on  top,  with  powerful 
emotions  (but  little  or  no  breath)  ;  stood  before  the  iron 
bars  that  guarded  the  tomb  of  George  Washington,  and 
Martha  his  wife. 

I  looked  at  the  marble  coffin  that  tried  to  hold  George, 
and  felt  how  vain  it  wuz  to  think  that  any  tomb  could 
hold  him.  That  peaceful,  tree-covered  hill  couldn't  hold 
his  tomb.  Why,  it  wuz  lifted  up  in  every  land  that  loved 
freedom.  The  hull  liberty-lovin'  earth  wuz  his  tomb  and 
his  monument. 

And  that  great  river  flowin'  on  and  on  at  his  feet  —  as 
long  as  that  river  rolls,  George  Washington  shall  float  on 
it,  he  and  his  faithful  Martha.  It  shall  bear  him  to  the 
sea  and  the  ocian,  and  .abroad  to  every  land. 

Oh !  what  feelin's  I  felt  as  I  stood  there  a  reveryin',  my 
body  still,  but  my  mind  proudly  soarin' !  To  think,  he 
wuz  our  Washington,  and  that  time  couldn't  kill  him. 
For  he  shall  walk  through  the  long  centuries  to  come. 
He  shall  bear  to  the  high  chamber  of  prince  and  ruler, 
memories  that  shall  blossom  into  deeds,  awaken  souls, 
rouse  powers  that  shall  never  die,  that  shall  scatter  bless 
ings  over  lands  afar,  strike  the  fetters  from  slave  and 
serf. 

The  hands  they  folded  over  his  peaceful  breast  so  many 
years  ago,  are  not  lying  there  in  that  marble  coffin :  the 


SWEET  CICELY 


261 


calm  blue  eyes  closed  so  many  years  ago,  are  still  lookin' 
into  souls.  Those  hands  lift  the  low  walls  of  the  poor 
boy's  chamber,  as  he  reads  of  victory  over  tyranny,  of  con- 
querin'  discouragement  and  defeat. 


BEFORE   THE   TOMB    OF   WASHINGTON. 

The  low  walls  fade  away;  the  dusky  rafters  part  to 
admit  the  infinite,  infinite  longin's  to  do  and  dare,  infinite 
resolves  to  emulate  those  deeds  of  valor  and  heroism.  How 
the  calm  blue  eyes  look  down  into  the  boy's  impassioned 
soul,  how  the  shadowy  hands  beckon  him  upward,  up  the 


262  SWEET  CICELY. 

rocky  heights  of  noble  endeavor,  noble  deeds !  How  the 
inspiration  of  this  life,  these  deeds  of  might  and  valor, 
nerve  the  young  heart  for  future  strivings  for  freedom  and 
justice  and  truth ! 

Is  it  not  a  blessed  thing  to  thus  live  on  forever  in  true, 
eager  hearts,  to  nerve  the  hero's  arm,  to  inspire  deeds  of 
courage  and  daring  ?  The  weary  body  may  rest ;  but  to 
do  this,  is  surely  not  to  die ;  no,  it  is  to  live,  to  be  immor 
tal,  to  thus  become  the  beating  heart,  the  living,  struggling, 
daring  soul  of  the  future. 

And  right  while  I  was  thinkin'  these  thoughts,  and 
lookin'  of!  over  the  still  landscape,  the  peaceful  waters, 
this  band  of  dark  singers  stood  with  reverent  faces  and 
uncovered  heads,  and  begun  singin'  one  of  their  sweetest 
melodies,  — 

"  He  rose,  he  rose,  he  rose  from  the  dead." 

Oh !  as  them  inspired,  hantin'  notes  rose  through  the 
soft,  listenin'  air,  and  hanted  me,  walked  right  round  in 
side  my  heart  and  soul,  and  inspired  me  —  why!  how 
many  emotions  I  did  have,  —  more'n  85  a  minute  right 
along ! 

As  I  thought  of  how  many  times  since  the  asscension 
of  our  Lord,  tombs  have  opened,  and  the  dead  come  forth 
alive  ;  how  Faith  and  Justice  will  triumph  in  the  end  ;  how 
you  can't  bury  'em  deep  enough,  or  roll  a  stun  big  enough 
and  hard  enough  before  the  door,  but  what,  in  some  calm 
mornin',  the  earliest  watcher  shall  see  a  tall,  fair  angel 
standin'  where  the  dead  has  lain,  bearin'  the  message  of 
the  risen  Lord,  "  He  rose  from  the  dead." 

I  thought  how  George  W.  and  our  other  old  4  fathers 


SWEET  CICELY.  263 

thought  in  the  long,  toilsome,  weary  hours  before  the 
dawnin',  that  fair  Freedom  was  dead;  but  she  rose,  she 
rose. 

I  thought  how  the  dusky  race  whose  sweet  songs  was  a 
floatin'  round  the  grave  of  him  who  loved  freedom,  and 
gave  his  life  for  it ;  I  thought  how,  durin'  the  dreary 
time  when  they  was  captives  in  a  strange  land,  chained, 
scourged,  and  tortured,  how  they  thought,  through  this 
long,  long  night  of  years,  that  Justice  was  dead,  and 
Mercy  and  Pity  and  Righteousness. 

But  there  con^e  a  glorious  mornin'  when  fathers  and 
mothers  clasped  their  children  in  their  arms,  their  own 
once  more,  in  arms  that  was  their  own,  to  labor  and  pro 
tect,  and  they  sung  together  of  Freedom  and  Right,  how 
though  they  wuz  buried  deep,  and  the  night  wuz  long,  and 
the  watchers  by  the  tomb  weary,  weary  unto  death,  yet 
they  rose,  they  rose  from  the  dead. 

And  then  I  thought  of  the  tombs  that  darken  our  land 
to-day,  where  the  murdered,  the  legally  murdered,  lay 
buried.  I  thought  of  the  graves  more  hopeless  fur  than 
them  that  entomb  the  dead,  —  the  graves  where  lay  the 
livin'  dead.  Dead  souls  bound  to  still  breathin'  bodies, 
dead  hopes,  ambitions,  dead  dreams  of  usefulness  and 
respectability,  happiness,  dead  purity,  faith,  honor,  dead, 
all  dead,  all  bound  to  the  still  breathin'  body,  by  the  fes- 
terin',  putrid  death-robes  of  helplessness  and  despair. 

There  they  lie  chained  to  their  dark  tombs  by  links  slight 
at  first,  but  twisted  by  the  hard  old  fingers  of  blind  habit, 
to  chains  of  iron,  chains  linked  about,  and  eatin'  into,  not 
only  the  quiverin'  flesh,  but  the  frenzied  brains,  the  hope 
less  hearts,  the  ruined  souls. 


264  SWEET  CICELY. 

Heavy,  hopeless-lookin'  vaults  they  are  indeed,  whose  air 
is  putrid  with  the  sickenin'  miasma  of  moral  loathsomness 
and  deseese ;  whose  walls  are  painted  with  hideous  pic 
tures  of  murder,  rapine,  lust,  starvation,  woe,  and  despair, 
earthly  and  eternal  ruin.  Shapes  of  the  dreadful  past,  the 
hopeless  future,  that  these  livin'  dead  stare  upon  with 
broodin'  frenzy  by  night  and  by  day. 

Oh  the  tombs,  the  countless,  countless  tombs,  where  lie 
these  breathin'  corpses  !  How  mothers  weep  over  them  ! 
how  wives  kneel,  and  beat  their  hearts  out  on  the  rocky 
barriers  that  separate  them  from  their  hearts'  love,  their 
hearts'  desire !  How  little  starvin',  naked  children  cower 
in  their  ghostly  shadows  through  dark  midnights !  how 
fathers  weep  for  their  children,  dead  to  them,  dead  to 
honor,  to  shame,  to  humanity !  How  the  cries  of  the 
mourners  ascend  to  the  sweet  heavens  ! 

And  less  peaceful  than  the  graves  of  the  departed,  these 
tombs  themselves  are  full  of  the  hopeless  cries  of  the 
entombed,  praying  for  help,  praying  for  some  strong  hand 
to  reach  down  and  lift  them  out  of  their  reeking,  polluted, 
living  death. 

The  whole  of  our  fair  land  is  covered  with  jest  such 
graves :  its  turf  is  tread  down  by  the  footprints  of  the 
mourners  who  go  about  the  streets.  They  pray,  they 
weep :  the  night  is  long,  is  long.  But  the  morning  will 
dawn  at  last. 

And  the  women,  —  daughters,  wives,  mothers,  —  who 
kneel  with  clasped  hands  beside  the  tombs,  heaviest-eyed, 
deepest  mourners,  because  most  helpless.  Lift  up  your 
heavy  eyes :  the  sun  is  even  now  rising,  that  shall  gild  the 
sky  at  last.  The  mornin'  light  is  even  now  dawnin'  in 


SWEET  CICELY.  265 

the  east.  It  shall  fall  first  upon  your  uplifted  brows,  your 
prayerful  eyes.  Most  blessed  of  God,  because  you  loved 
most,  sorrowed  most.  To  you  shall  it  be  given  to  behold 
first  the  tall,  fair  angel  of  Resurection  and  Redemption, 
standin'  at  the  grave's  mouth.  Into  your  hands  shall  he 
put  the  key  to  unlock  the  heavy  doors,  where  your  loved 
has  lain. 

The  dead  shall  rise.  Temperance  and  Justice  and 
Liberty  shall  rise.  They  shall  go  forth  to  bless  our  fair 
land.  And  purified  and  enobled,  it  shall  be  the  best 
beloved,  the  fairest  land  of  God  beneath  the  sun.  Refuge 
of  the  oppressed  and  tempted,  inspiration  of  the  hopeless, 
light  of  the  world. 

And  free  mothers  shall  clasp  their  free  children  to  their 
hearts ;  and  fathers  and  mothers  and  children  shall  join  in 
one  heavenly  strain,  song  of  freedom  and  of  truth.  And 
the  nations  shall  listen  to  hear  how  "  they  rose,  they  rose, 
they  rose  from  the  dead." 

As  the  tones  of  the  sweet  hymn  died  on  the  soft  air, 
and  the  blessed  vision  passed  with  it ;  when  I  come  down 
onto  my  feet,  —  for  truly,  I  had  been  lifted  up,  and  by  the 
side  of  myself,  —  Cicely  was  standin'  with  her  brown  eyes 
lookin'  over  the  waters,  holdin'  the  hand  of  the  boy ;  and 
I  see  every  thing  that  the  song  did  or  could  mean,  in  the 
depths  of  her  deep,  prophetic  eyes.  Sad  eyes,  too,  they 
was,  and  discouraged ;  for  the  morning  wus  fur  away  — 
and  —  and  the  boy  wus  pullin'  at  her  hand,  eager  to  get 
away  from  where  he  wus. 

The  boy  led  us;  and  we  follered  him  up  the  gradual 
hill  to  the  old  homestead  of  Washington,  Mount  Vernon. 

Lookin'  down  from  the  broad,  high  porch,  you  can  look 


266  SWEET  CICELY. 

directly  down  through  the  trees  into  the  river.  The 
water  calm  and  sort  o'  golden,  through  the  green  of  the 
trees,  and  every  thing  looked  peaceful  and  serene. 

There  are  lots  of  interestin'  things  to  be  seen  here,  — 
the  tombs  of  the  rest  of  the  Washington  family ;  the  key 
of  the  Bastile,  covered  with  the  blood  and  misery  of  a 
foreign  land ;  the  tree  that  carries  us  back  in  memory  to 
his  grave,  where  he  rests  quietly,  who  disturbed  the  sleep 
of  empires  and  kingdoms;  the  furniture  of  Washington 
and  his  family,  —  the  chairs  they  sot  in,  the  tables  they 
sot  at,  and  the  rooms  where  they  sot;  the  harpiscord, 
that  Nelly  Custis  and  Mrs.  G.  Washington  harpiscorded 
on. 

But  she  whose  name  wus  once  Smith  longed  to  see 
somethin'  else  fur  more.  What  wus  it? 

It  wus  not  the  great  drawin'-rooms,  the  guest-chambers, 
the  halls,  the  grounds,  the  live-stock,  nor  the  pictures,  nor 
the  flowers. 

No :  it  wus  the  old  garret  of  the  mansion,  the  low  old 
garret,  where  she  sot,  our  Lady  Washington,  in  her 
widowed  dignity,  with  no  other  fire  only  the  light  of 
deathless  love  that  lights  palace  or  hovel,  —  sot  there  in 
the  window,  because  she  could  look  out  from  it  upon  the 
tomb  of  her  mighty  dead. 

Sot  lookin'  out  upon  the  river  that  wus  sweepin'  along 
under  sun  and  moon,  bearing  on  every  wave  and  ripple 
the  glory  and  beauty  of  his  name. 

Bearing  it  away  from  her  mebby,  she  would  sometimes 
sadly  think,  as  she  thought  of  happy  days  gone  by ;  for 
though  souls  may  soar,  hearts  will  cling.  And  sometimes 
storms  would  vex  the  river's  unquiet  breast ;  and  mebby 


SWEET  CICELY. 


267 


THE   OLD   HOME   OF   WASHINGTON. 


268  SWEET  CICELY. 

the  waves  would  whisper  to  her  lovin'  heart,  "  Never  more, 
never  more." 

As  she  sot  there  looking  out,  waiting  for  that  other 
river,  whose  waves  crept  nearer  and  nearer  to  her  feet,  — 
that  other  river,  on  which  her  soul  should  sail  away  to 
meet  her  glorious  dead ;  that  river  which  whispers  "  For 
ever,  forever;"  that  river  which  is  never  unquiet,  and 
whose  waves  are  murmuring  of  nothing  less  beautiful  than 
of  meeting,  of  love,  and  of  lasting  repose. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHEN  we  got  back  from  Mount  Vernon,  and  entered 
our  boardin'-house,  Cicely  went  right  up  to  her  room. 
But  I,  feelin'  kinder  beat  out  (eloquent  emotions  are  very 
tuckerin'  on  a  tower),  thought  I  would  set  down  a  few 
minutes  in  the  parlor  to  rest,  before  I  mounted  up  the 
stairs  to  my  room. 

But  truly,  as  it  turned  out,  I  had  better  have  gone  right 
up,  breath  or  no  breath. 

For,  while  I  was  a  settin'  there,  a  tall,  sepulchral  lookin' 
female,  that  I  had  noticed  at  the  breakfast-table,  come  up 
to  ine  ;  and  says  she,  — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  mom,  but  I  believe  you  are  -the 
noble  and  eloquent  Josiah  Allen's  wife,  and  I  believe  you 
are  a  stoppin'  here." 

Says  I  calmly,  "  I  hain't  a  stoppin'  —  I  am  stopped,  as 
it  were,  for  a  few  days." 

"  Wall,"  says  she,  "  a  friend  of  mine  is  comin'  to-night, 
to  my  room,  No.  17,  to  give  a  private  seansy.  And  know- 
in'  you  are  a  great  case  to  investigate  into  truths,  I  thought 
mebby  you  would  love  to  come,  and  witness  some  of  our 
glorious  spirit  manifestations." 

I  thanked  her  for  her  kindness,  but  told  her  "  I  guessed 

269 


270  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  wouldn't  go.  I  didn't  seem  to  be  sufferin'  for  a 
seancy." 

"Oh!"  says  she:  "it  is  wonderful,  wonderful  to  see. 
Why,  we  will  tie  the  medium  up,  and  he  will  on  tie  him 
self." 

"  Oh  !  "  says  I.  "  I  have  seen  that  done,  time  and  agin. 
I  used  to  tie  Thomas  J.  up  when  he  was  little,  and 
naughty ;  and  he  would,  in  spite  of  me,  ontie  himself,  and 
get  away." 

"  Who  is  Thomas  J.  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Josiah's  child  by  his  first  wife,"  says  I. 

"Wall,"  says  she,  "if  we  have  a  good  circle,  and  the 
conditions  are  favorable,  the  spirits  will  materialize,  — 
come  before  us  with  a  body." 

"  Oh  !  "  says  I.  "  I  have  seen  that.  Thomas  J.  used  to 
dress  up  as  a  ghost,  and  appear  to  us.  But  he  didn't  seem 
to  think  the  conditions  wus  so  favorable,  and  he  didn't  seem 
to  appear  so  much,,  after  his  father  ketched  him  at  it,  and 
give  him  a  good  whippin'."  And  says  I  firmly,  "  I  guess 
that  would  be  about  the  way  with  your  ghosts." 

And  after  I  had  said  it,  the  idee  struck  me  as  bein'  sort 
o'  pitiful,  —  to  go  to  whippin'  a  ghost.  But  she  didn't 
seem  to  notice  my  remark,  for  she  seemed  to  be  a  gazin' 
upward  in  a  sort  of  a  muse ;  and  she  says,  — 

"  Oh !  would  you  not  like  to  talk  with  your  departed 
kindred?" 

"Wall,  yes,"  says  I  firmly,  after  a  minute's  thought. 
"  I  would  like  to." 

"  Come  to-night  to  our  seansy,  and  we  will  call  'em,  and 
you  shall  talk  with  'em." 

"  Wall,"  says  I  candidly,  "  to  tell  the  truth,  bein'  only 


SWEET  CICELY.  271 

wimmen  present,  I'll  tell  you,  I  have  got  to  mend  my  pet 
ticoat  to-night.  My  errents  have  took  me  round  to  such 
a  extent,  that  it  has  got  all  frayed  out  round  the  bottom, 
and  I  have  got  to  mend  the  fray.  But,  if  any  of  my  kin 
dred  are  there,  you  jest  mention  it  to  'em  that  she  that 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON'S  GHOST. 

wuz  Samantha  Smith  is  stopped  at  No.  16,  and,  if  perfectly 
convenient,  would  love  to  see  'em.  I  can  explain  it  to 
'em,"  says  I,  "  bein'  all  in  the  family,  why  I  couldn't  leave 
my  room." 

Says  she,  "  You  are  makin'  fun :  you  don't  believe  they 
will  be  there,  do  you  ?  " 


272  SWEET  CICELY. 

"Wall,  to  be  honest  with  you,  it  looks  dubersome  to 
me.  It  does  seem  to  me,  that  if  my  father  or  mother  sot 
out  from  the  other  world,  and  come  down  to  this  boardin'- 
house,  to  No.  17,  they  would  know,  without  havin'  to  be 
told,  that  I  was  in  the  next  room  to  'em ;  and  they  would 
n't  want  to  stay  with  a  passel  of  indifferent  strangers, 
when  their  own  child  was  so  near." 

"You  don't  believe  in  the  glorious  manifestations  of 
our  seansys  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Wall,  to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  I  don't  seem  to  believe 
'em  to  any  great  extent.  I  believe,  if  God  wants  to  speak 
to  a  human  soul  below,  He  can,  without  any  of  your  per- 
formences  and  foolishness ;  and  when  I  say  performences, 
and  when  I  say  foolishness,  I  say  'em  in  very  polite  ways : 
and  I  don't  want  to  hurt  anybody's  feelin's  by  sayin' 
things  hain't  so,  but  I  simply  state  my  belief." 

"  Don't  you  believe  in  the  communion  of  saints  ?  Don't 
you  believe  God  ever  reveals  himself  to  man  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do !  I  believe  that  now,  as  in  the  past,  the 
pure  in  heart  shall  see  God.  Why,  heaven  is  over  all,  and 
pretty  nigh  to  some." 

And  I  thought  of  Cicely,  and  couldn't   help  it. 

"I  believe  there  are  pure  souls,  especially  when  they 
are  near  to  the  other  world,  who  can  look  in,  and  behold 
its  beauty.  Why,  it  hain't  but  a  little  ways  from  here,  — 
it  can't  be,  sense  a  breath  of  air  will  blow  us  into  it.  It 
takes  sights  of  preparation  to  get  ready  to  go,  but  it  is 
only  a  short  sail  there.  And  you  may  go  all  over  the 
land  from  house  to  house,  and  you  will  hear  in  almost 
every  one  of  some  dear  friend  who  died  with  their  faces 
lit  up  with  the  glow  of  the  light  shinin'  from  some  one  of 


SWEET  CICELY.  273 

the  many  mansions,  —  the  clear  home-light  of  the  father 
land  ;  died  speakin'  to  some  loved  one,  gone  before.  Bujb 
I  don't  believe  you  can  coax  that  light,  and  them  voices, 
down  into  a  cabinet,  and  let  'em  shine  and  speak,  at  so 
much  an  evenin'." 

"  I  thought,"  says  she  bitterly,  "  that  you  was  one  who 
never  condemned  any  thing  that  you  hadn't  thoroughly 
investigated." 

"  I  don't,"  says  I.  "  I  don't  condemn  nothin'  nor  no 
body.  I  only  tell  my  mind.  I  don't  say  there  hain't  no 
truth  in  it,  because  I  don't  know ;  and  that  is  one  of  the 
best  reasons  in  the  world  for  not  sayin'  a  thing  hain't  so. 
When  you  think  how  big  a  country  the  land  of  Truth  is, 
and  how  many  great  unexplored  regions  lay  in  it,  why 
should  Josiah  Allen's  wife  stand  and  lean  up  aginst  a  tree 
on  the  outmost  edge  of  the  frontier,  and  say  what  duz  and 
what  duzn't  lay  hid  in  them  mysterius  and  beautiful  re 
gions  that  happier  eyes  than  hern  shall  yet  look  into  ? 

"  No  :  the  great  future  is  the  fulfillment  of  the  prophe 
cies,  and  blind  gropin's  of  the  present ;  and  it  is  not  for 
me,  nor  Josiah,  nor  anybody  else,  to  talk  too  positive  about 
what  we  hain't  seen,  and  don't  know. 

"  No  :  nor  I  hain't  one  to  say  it  is  the  Devil's  work,  not 
claimin'  such  a  close  acquaintance  with  the  gentleman 
named,  as  some  do,  who  profess  to  know  all  his  little  social 
eccentricities.  But  I  simply  say,  and  say  honest,  that  I 
hain't  felt  no  drawin's  towards  seancys,  nor  felt  like  fol- 
lerin'  'em  up.  But  I  am  perfectly  willin'  you  should  have 
your  own  idees,  and  foller  'em." 

"  Do  you  believe  angels  have  appeared  to  men  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mom,  I  do.     But  I  never  heard  of  a  angel  bein' 


274  SWEET  CICELY. 

stanchelled  up  in  a  box-stall,  and  let  out  of  it  agin  at 
stated  times,  like  a  yearlin'  colt.  (Excuse  my  metafor, 
mom,  I  am  country  bred  and  born.)  And  no  angel  that 
I  ever  heard  on,  has  been  harnessed  and  tackled  up  with 
any  ropes  or  strings  whatsoever.  No  !  whenever  we  hear 
of  angels  appearin'  to  men,  they  have  flown  down,  white- 
winged  and  radiant,  right  out  of  the  heavens,  which  is 
their  home,  and  appeared  to  men,  entirely  unbeknown  to 
them.  That  is  the  way  they  appeared  to  the  shephards  at 
Bethlahem,  to  the  disciples  on  the  mountain,  to  the 
women  at  the  tomb." 

"  Don't  you  believe  they  could  come  jest  as  well  now  ?  " 

"  I  don't  say  they  couldn't.  There  is  no  place  in  the 
Bible,  that  I  know  of,  where  it  says  they  shall  never  ap 
pear  agin  to  man.  But  I  s'pose,  in  the  days  I  speak  of, 
when  the  One  Pure  Heart  was  upon  earth,  Earth  and 
Heaven  drew  nearer  together,  as  it  were,  —  the  divine  and 
the  human.  And  if  we  now  draw  Heaven  nearer  to  us  by 
better,  purer  lives,  who  knows,"  says  I  dreamily  (forgettin' 
the  mejum,  and  other  trials),  "  who  knows  but  what  we 
might,  in  some  fair  day,  look  up  into  the  still  heavens,  and 
see  through  the  clear  blue,  in  the  distance,  a  glimpse  of 
the  beautiful  city  of  the  redeemed  ? 

"  Who  knows,"  says  I,  "  if  we  lived  for  Heaven,  as  Jen 
nie  Dark  lived  for  her  country,  in  the  story  I  have  heard 
Thomas  J.  read  about,  but  we  might,  like  her,  see  visions, 
and  hear  voices,  callin'  us  to  heavenly  duties  ?  But,"  says 
I,  findin'  and  recoverin'  myself,  "  I  don't  see  no  use  in  a 
seansy  to  help  us." 

"  Don't  you  admit  that  there  is  strange  doiii's  at  these 
seansys  ?  " 


SWEET  CICELY  275 

"  Yes,"  says  I.  "  I  never  see  one  myself ;  but,  from 
what  I  have  heard  of  'em,  they  are  very  strange." 

"  Don't  you  think  there  are  things  done  that  seem  super 
natural  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  they  are  any  more  supernatural  than 
the  telegraph  and  telefone  and  electric  light,  and  many 
other  seemin'ly  supernatural  works.  And  who  knows  but 
there  may  still  be  some  hidden  powers  in  nature  that  is 
the  source  of  what  you  call  supernatural  ?  " 

"  Why  not  believe,  with  us,  voices  from  Heaven  speak 
through  these  means  ?  " 

"  Because  it  looks  dubersome  to  me  —  dretful  duber- 
some.  It  don't  look  reasonable  to  me,  that  He,  the  mighty 
King  of  heaven  and  earth,  would  speak  to  His  children 
through  a  senseless  Indian  jargon,  or  impossible  and  blas 
phemous  speeches  through  a  first  sphere." 

"  You  say  you  believe  God  has  spoken  to  men,  and  why 
not  now  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you,  I  don't  know  but  He  duz.  But  I  don't 
believe  it  is  in  that  manner.  Way  back  to  the  creation, 
when  we  read  of  God's  speakin'  to  man,  the  voice  come 
directly  down  from  heaven  to  their  souls. 

"In  the  hush  of  the  twilight,  when  every  thing  was 
still  and  peaceful,  and  Adam  was  alone,  then  he  heard 
God's  voice.  He  didn't  have  to  wait  for  favorable  condi 
tions,  or  set  round  a  table ;  for,  what  is  more  convincing 
I  don't  believe  he  had  a  table  to  set  round. 

"  In  the  dreary  lonesomeness  of  the  great  desert,  God 
spoke  to  the  heart-broken  Hagar.  She  didn't  have  to  try 
any  tests  to  call  down  the  spirits.  Clear  and  sudden  out 
of  heaven  come  the  Lord's  voice  speaking  to  her  soul 


276  SWEET  CICELY. 

in  comfort  and  in  prophecy ;  and  her  eyes  was  opened,  and 
she  saw  waters  flowin'  in  the  midst  of  the  desert. 

"  Up  on  the  mountain  top,  God's  voice  spoke  to  Abra 
ham  ;  and  Lot  in  the  quiet  of  evening,  at  the  tent's  door, 
received  the  angelic  visitants.  Sudden,  unbeknown  to 
them,  they  come.  They  didn't  have  to  put  nobody  into 
a  trance,  nor  holler,  so  we  read. 

"In  the  hush  of  the  temple,  through  the  quiet  of  her 
motherly  dreams,  Hannah  heard  a  voice.  Hannah  didn't 
have  to  say,  4  If  you  are  a  spirit,  rap  so  many  times.'  No  : 
she  knew  the  voice.  God  prepares  the  listenin'  soul  His 
own  self.  '  They  know  my  voice,'  so  the  Lord  said. 

"  Daniel  and  the  lions  didn't  have  to  '  form  a  circle  ' 
for  him  to  see  the  one  in  shinin'  raiment.  No:  the 
angel  guest  came  down  from  heaven  unbidden,  and  ap 
peared  to  Daniel  alone,  in  peril ;  and  as  he  stood  by  the 
4  great  river,'  it  said, '  Be  strong,  be  strong  ! '  preparin'  him 
for  conflict.  And  Daniel  was  strengthened,  so  the  Bible 
says. 

"  God's  hand  is  not  weaker  to-day,  and  His  conflicts  are 
bein'  waged  on  many  a  battle-field.  And  I  dare  not  say 
that  He  does  not  send  His  angels  to  comfort  and  sustain 
them  who  from  love  to  Him  go  out  into  rightous  war 
fare.  But  I  don't  believe  they  come  through  a  seansy. 
I  don't,  honestly.  I  don't  believe  Daniel  would  have 
felt  strengthened  a  mite,  by  seem'  a  materialized  rag-baby 
hung  out  by  a  wire  in  front  of  a  hemlock  box,  and  then 
drawed  back  sudden. 

"No:  Adam  "and  Enoch,  and  Mary  and  Paul  and  St. 
John,  didn't  have  to  say,  before  they  saw  the  heavenly 
guests,  'If  you  are  a  spirit,  manifest  it  by  liftin'  up  some 


IT: 


HEAVENLY    VISITORS. 


278  SWEET  CICELY. 

table-legs.'  And  they  didn't  have  to  tie  a  mejum  into  a 
box  before  they  could  hear  God's  voice.  No :  we  read  in 
the  Bible  of  eight  different  ones  who  come  back  from 
death,  and  appeared  to  their  friends,  besides  the  many 
who  came  forth  from  their  graves  at  Jerusalem.  But 
they  didn't  none  of  'em  come  in  this  way  from  round 
under  tables,  and  out  of  little  coops,  and  etcetery. 

"  And  as  it  was  in  the  old  days,  so  I  believe  it  is  to-day. 
I  believe,  if  God  wants  to  speak  to  a  human  soul,  livin'  or 
dead,  He  don't  need  the  help  of  ropes  and  boxes  and 
things.  It  don't  look  reasonable  to  think  He  has  to  em 
ploy  such  means.  And  it  don't  look  reasonable  to  me  to 
think,  if  He  wants  to  speak  to  one  of  His  children  in  com 
fort  or  consolation,  He  will  try  to  drive  a  hard  bargain 
with  'em,  and  make  'em  pay  from  fifty  cents  to  a  dollar  to 
hear  Him,  children  half  price.  Howsomever,  everybody 
to  their  own  opinions." 

"  You  are  a  unbeliever,"  says  she  bitterly. 

"  Yes,  mom  :  I  s'pose  I  am.  I  s'pose  I  should  be  called 
Samantha  Allen,  U.S.,  which  stands,  Unbeliever  in  Spirit 
ual  Seansys,  and  a'lso  United  States.  It  has  a  noble, 
martyrous  look  to  me,"  says  I  firmly.  "It  makes  me 
think  of  my  erreiit." 

She  tosted  her  head  in  a  high-headed  way,  which  is 
gaulin'  in  the  extreme  to  see  in  another  female.  And 
she  says, — 

"  You  are  not  receptive  to  truth." 

I  s'pose  she  thought  that  would  scare  me,  but  it  didn't. 
I  says,  — 

"  I  believe  in  takin'  truth  direct  from  God's  own  hand 
and  revelation.  But  I  don't  have  any  faith  in  modern 


SWEET  CICELY.  279 

spiritual  seansys.  They  seem  to  me,  - —  and  I  would  say 
it  in  a  polite,  courtous  way,  for  I  wouldn't  hurt  your  feel- 
in's  for  the  world,  —  all  mixed  up  with  modern  greed  and 
humbug." 

But,  if  you'll  believe  it,  for  all  the  pains  I  took  to  be 
almost  over-polite  to  her,  and  not  say  a  word  to  hurt  her 
feelin's,  that  woman  acted  mad,  and  flounced  out  of  the 
room  as  if  she  was  sent. 

Good  land!  what  strange  creeters  there  are  in  the 
world,  anyway ! 

Wall,  I  had  fairly  forgot  that  the  boy  wus  in  the  room. 
But  1,000  and  5  is  a  small  estimate  of  the  questions  he 
asked  me  after  she  went  out. 

"What  a  seansy  was?  And  did  folks  appear  there? 
And  would  his  papa  appear  if  he  should  tie  himself  up 
in  a  box?  And  if  I  would  be  sorry  if  his  papa  didn't 
appear,  if  he  didn't  appear  ?  And  where  the  folks  went 
to  that  I  said  come  out  of  their  graves  ?  And  did  they 
die  again  ?  Or  did  they  keep  on  a  livin'  and  a  livin'  and 
a  livin'  ?  And  if  I  wished  I  could  keep  on  a  livin'  and  a 
livin'  and  a  livin'  ?  " 

Good  land !  it  made  me  feel  wild  as  a  loon,  and  Cicely 
put  the  boy  to  bed. 

But  I  happened  to  go  into  the  bedroom  for  something ; 
and  he  opened  his  eyes,  and  says  he,  — 

"  Say  !  if  the  dead  live  men's  little  boys  that  had  grown 
up  and  lived  and  died  before  their  pa's  come  out,  would 
they  come  out  too  ?  and  would  the  dead  live  men  know 
that  they  was  their  little  boys  ?  and  say  "  — 

But  I  went  out  immegiatly,  and  s'pose  he  went  to  sleep. 

Wall,  the  next  morniii'  I  got  up  feeliii'  kinder  mauger. 


280  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  felt  sort  o'  weary  in  my  mind  as  well  as  my  body.  For 
I  had  kep'  up  a  powerful  ammount  of  thinkin'  and  mede- 
tatin'.  Mebby  right  when  I  would  be  a  talkin'  and  a 
smiliii'  to  folks  about  the  weather  or  literatoor  or  any 
thing,  my  mind  would  be  hard  at  work  on  problems,  and  I 


;SAY!: 


would  be  a  takin'  silent  observations,  and  musin'  on  what 
my  eyes  beheld. 

And  I  had  felt  more  and  more  satisfied  of  the  wisdom 
of  the  conclusion  I  reached  on  my  first  interview  with 
Allen  Arthur,  —  that  I  dast  not,  I  dast  not  let  my  com 
panion  go  from  me  into  Washington. 

No  !  I  felt  that  I  dast  not,  as  his  mind  was,  let  him  go 
into  temptation. 


SWEET  CICELY.  281 

I  felt  that  he  wanted  to  make  money  out  of  the  Gov 
ernment  I  loved ;  and  after  I  had  looked  round  me,  and 
observed  persons  and  things,  I  felt  that  he  would  do  it. 

I  felt  that  Jdast  not  let  him  go. 

I  knew  that  he  wanted  to  help  them  that  helped  him, 
without  no  deep  thought  as  to  the  special  fitness  of  uncle 
Nate  Gowdy  and  Ury  Henzy  for  governmental  positions. 
And  after  I  had  enquired  round  a  little,  and  considered 
the  heft  of  his  mind,  and  the  weight  of  example,  I  felt  he 
would  do  it. 

And  I  dast  not  let  him  go. 

And,  though  I  knew  his  hand  was  middlin'  free  now, 
still  I  realized  that  other  hands  just  as  free  once  had  had 
rings  slipped  into  'em,  and  was  led  by  'em  whithersoever 
the  ring-jnakers  wished  to  lead  them. 

I  dast  not  let  him  go. 

I  knew  that  now  his  morals,  though  small  (he  don't 
weigh  more'n  a  hundred, — bones,  moral  sentiments,  and 
all),  was  pretty  sound  and  firm,  the  most  of  the  time. 
But  the  powerful  winds  that  blew  through  them  broad 
streets  of  Washington  from  every  side,  and  from  the  out 
side,  and  from  the  under  side,  powerful  breezes,  some  cold, 
and  some  powerful  hot  ones  —  why,  I  felt  that  them  small 
morals,  more  than  as  likely  as  not,  would  be  upsot,  and 
blowed  down,  and  tore  all  to  pieces. 

I  dast  not  let  him  go. 

I  knew  he  was  willin'  to  buy  votes.  If  willin'  to  buy, 
—  the  fearful  thought  hanted  me,  —  mebby  he  would  be 
willin'  to  sell ;  and,  the  more  I  looked  round  and  observed, 
the  more  I  felt  that  he  would. 

I  felt  that  I  dast  not  let  him  go. 


282  SWEET  CICELY. 

No,  no  !     I  dast  not  let  him  go. 

I  was  a  musin'  on  this  thought  at  the  breakfast-table 
where  I  sot  with  Cicely,  the  boy  not  bein'  up.  I  was  settin' 
to  the  table  as  calm  and  cool  as  my  toast  (which  was  very 
cool),  when  the  hired  man  brought  me  a  letter;  and  I 
opened  it  right  there,  for  I  see  by  the  post-mark  it  was 
from  my  Josiah.  And  I  read  as  follers,  in  dismay  and 
anguish,  for  I  thought  he  was  crazy :  — 

Mi  DEER  WYF, —  Kum  hum,  I  hav  got  a  crik  in  mi  bak.  Kum 
hum,  mi  deer  Sam,  kum  hum,  or  I  shal  xpire.  Mi  gord  has  withurd, 
mi  plan  has  faled,  I  am  a  undun  Josire.  Tung  kant  xpres  mi 
yernin  to  see  u.  I  kant  tak  no  kumfort  lookin  at  ure  kam  fisiognimy 
in  ure  fotogrof,  it  maks  mi  nart  ake,  u  luk  so  swete,  I  fere  u  hav  caut 
a  bo.  Kum  hum,  kum  hum. 

Ure  luvin  kompanien, 

JOSIRE. 

vers  ov  poetry. 

Mi  krik  is  bad,  mi  ink  is  pale  : 
Mi  luv  for  u  shal  never  fale. 

I  dropt  my  knife  and  fork  (I  had  got  about  through 
eatin',  anyway),  and  hastened  to  my  room.  Cicely  fol 
lowed  me,  anxious-eyed,  for  I  looked  bad. 

I  dropped  into  a  chair ;  and  almost  buryin'  my  face  in 
my  white  linen  handkerchief,  I  give  vent  to  some  moans 
of  anguish,  and  a  large  number  of  sithes.  And  Cicely 
says,  — 

"  What  is  the  matter,  aunt  Samantha  ?  " 

And  I  says,  — 

"  Your  poor  uncle  !  your  poor  uncle  !  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  says  she. 

And  I  says,  "  He  is  crazy  as  a  loon.     Crazy  and  got  a 


SWEET  CICELY. 


283 


creek,  and  I  must  start  for  home  the  first   thing   in   the 


mormn. 


SAMANTHA'S  SORROW. 


She  says,  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  and  then  I  showed  her 
the  letter,  and  says  as  I  did  so,  — 

"  He  has  had  too  much  strain  on  his  mind,  for  the  size 


284  SWEET  CICELY. 

of  it.  His  plans  have  been  too  deep.  He  has  grappled 
with  too  many  public  questions.  I  ortn't  to  have  left  him 
alone  with  politics.  But  I  left  him  for  his  good.  But 
never,  never,  will  I  leave  that  beloved  man  agin,  crazy,  or 
no  crazy,  creek,  or  no  creek. 

"  Oh !  "  says  I,  "  will  he  never,  never  more  be  conscious 
of  the  presence  of  the  partner  of  his  youth  and  middle  age  ? 
Will  he  never  realize  the  deep,  constant  love  that  has 
lightened  up  our  pathway  ?  " 

I  wept  some.  But  I  thought  that  mebby  he  would 
know  my  cream  biscuit  and  other  vittles,  I  felt  that  he 
would  recognise  them. 

But  by  this  time  Cicely  had  got  the  letter  read  through  ; 
and  she  said  "  he  wuzn't  crazy,  it  was  the  new-fashioned 
way  of  spelling ; "  she  said  she  had  seen  it ;  and  so  I 
brightened  up,  and  felt  well :  though,  as  I  told  her,  — 

"The  creek  would  drive  me  home  in  the  morninV 
Says  I,  "Duty  and  Love  draws  me,  a  willin'  captive,  to 
the  side  of  my  sufferin'  Josiah.  I  shall  go  home  on  that 
creek."  Says  I,  "  Woman's  first  duty  is  to  the  man  she 
loves."  Says  I,  "  I  come  here  on  that  duty,  and  on  that 
duty  I  shall  go  back,  and  the  creek." 

Cicely  didn't  feel  as  if  she  could  go  the  next  day,  for 
there  was  to  be  a  great  meetin'  of  the  friends  of  temper 
ance,  in  a  few  days,  there ;  and  she  wanted  to  attend  to 
it ;  she  wanted  to  help  all  she  could ;  and  then,  there  wus 
a  person  high  in  influence  that  she  wanted  to  converse 
with  on  the  subject.  That  good  little  thing  was  willin'  to 
do  any  thing  for  the  sake  of  the  boy  and  the  Right. 

But  I  says  to  her,  "  I  must  go,  for  that  word  '  plan ' 
worrys  me ;  it  worrys  me  far  more  than  the  creek :  and  I 


SWEET  CICELY.  285 

see  my  partner  is  all  unstrung,  and  I  must  be  there  to  try 
to  string  him  up  agin." 

So  it  wus  decided,  that  I  should  start  in  the  morning, 
and  Cicely  come  on  in  a  few  days :  she  was  all  boyed  up 
with  the  thought  that  at  this  meetin'  she  could  get  some 
help  and  hope  for  the  boy. 

But,  after  Cicely  went  to  bed,  I  sot  there,  and  got  to 
thinkin'  about  the  new  spellin',  and  felt  that  I  approved 
of  it.  My  mind  is  such  that  instantly  I  can  weigh  and 
decide. 

I  took  some  of  these  words,  photograph,  philosophy, 
etc.,  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  I  took  filosify  and'  foto- 
graf ;  and  as  I  hefted  'em,  I  see  the  latter  was  easier  to 
carry.  I  see  they  would  make  our  language  easier  to 
learn  by  children  and  foreigners ;  it  would  lop  off  a  lot  of 
silent  letters  of  no  earthly  use ;  i^  would  make  far  less 
labor  in  writin',  in  printin',  in  cost  of  type,  and  would  be 
better  every  way. 

Cicely  said  a  good  many  was  opposed  to  it  on  account 
of  bein'  attached  to  the  old  way.  But  I  don't  feel  so, 
though  I  love  the  old  things  with  a  love  that  makes  my 
heart  ache  sometimes  when  changes  come.  But  my  rea 
son  tells  me  that  it  hain't  best  to  be  attached  to  the  old 
way  if  the  new  is  better. 

Now,  I  s'pose  our  old  4  fathers  was  attached  to  the  idee 
of  hitchin'  an  ox  onto  a  wagon,  and  ridin'  after  it.  And 
our  old  4  mothers  liked  the  idee  of  bein'  perched  up  on  a 
pillion  behind  the  old  4  fathers.  I  s'pose  they  hated  the 
idee  of  gettin'  off  of  that  pillion,  and  onhitchin'  that  ox. 
But  they  had  to,  they  had  to  get  down,  and  get  up  into 
phaetons  and  railway  cars,  and  steamboats. 


286 


SWEET  CICELY. 


And  I  s'pose  them  old  4  people  (likely  creeters  they 
wuz  too)  hated  the  idee  of  usin'  matches ;  used  to  love,  to 
strike  fire  with  a  flint,  and  trample  off  a  mild  to  a  neigh- 
ber's  on  January  mornin's  (and  their  mornin's  was  very 
early)  to  borrow  some  coals  if  they  had  lost  their  flint.  1 
s'pose  they  had  got  attached  to  that  flint,  some  of  'em,  and 
hated  to  give  it  up,  thought  it  would  be  lonesome.  But 
they  had  to;  and  the  flint  didn't  care,  it  knew  matches 


OUR  4  PAEENTS. 

was  better.  The  calm,  everlasting  forces  of  Nature  don't 
murmur  or  rebel  when  they  are  changed  for  newer,  greater 
helps.  No :  it  is  only  human  bein's  who  complain,  and 
have  the  heartache,  because  they  are  so  sot. 

But  whether  we  murmur,  or  whether  we  are  calm, 
whether  we  like  it,  or  whether  we  don't,  we  have  to  move 
our  tents.  We  are  only  campin'  out,  here ;  and  we  have 
to  move  our  tents  along,  and  let  the  new  things  push  us 


SWEET  CICELY. 


287 


out  of  the  way.  The  old  things  now,  are  the  new  ones 
of  the  past ;  and  what  seems  new  to  us,  will  soon  be  the 
old. 

Why,  how  long  does  it  seem,  only  a  minute,  since  we 
was  a  buildin'  moss  houses  down  in  the  woods  back  of  the 
old  schoolhouse?      Beau 
tiful,  fresh  rooms,  carpeted     /"  ~  "V/ii 
with  the  green  moss,  with 
bright  young  faces  bendin' 
down   over   'em.     Where 
are  they  now?     The  dust 
of   how   many   years  —  I 
don't  want  to  think  how 
many  —  has   sifted   down 
over  them  velvet-carpeted 
mansions,     turned     them 
into  dust. 

And  the  same  dust  has 
sprinkled  down  onto  the 
happy  heads  of  the  fresh, 
bright-faced  little  group 
gathered  there. 

Charley,  and  Alice  !  oh  ! 
the  dust  is  very  deep  on 
her  head,  —  the  dust  that 
shall  at  last  lay  over  all 
our  heads.  And  Louis  !  Bright  blue  eyes  there  may  be 
to-day,  old  Time,  but  none  truer  and  tenderer  than  his. 
But  long  ago,  oh !  long  ago,  the  dust  covered  you  —  the 
dust  that  is  older  than  the  pyramids,  old,  and  yet  new ; 
for  on  some  mysterious  breeze  it  was  wafted  to  you,  it 


IIOKROWIHG   COALS. 


288  SWEET  CICELY. 

drifted  down,  and  covered  the  blue  eyes  and  the  brown 
eyes,  hid  the  bright  faces  forever. 

And  the  years  have  sprinkled  down  into  Charley's  grave 
business  head  tiresome  dust  of  dividends  and  railway 
shares.  Kate  and  Janet,  and  Will  and  Helen  and  Harry  — 
where  are  you  all  to-day,  I  wonder  ?  But  though  I  do  not 
know  that,  I  do  know  this,  —  that  Time  has  not  stood  still 
with  any  of  you.  The  years  have  moved  you  along,  hus 
tled  you  forward,  as  they  swept  by.  You  have  had  to 
move  along,  and  let  other  bright  faces  stand  in  front  of 
you. 

You  are  all  buildin'  houses  to-day  that  you  think  are 
more  endurin'.  But  what  you  build  to-day — hopes  built 
upon  worldly  wealth,  worldly  fame,  household  affection, 
political  success  —  ah !  will  they  not  pass  away  like  the 
green  moss  houses  down  in  the  woods  back  of  the  old 
schoolhouse  ? 

Yes,  they,  too,  will  pass  away,  so  utterly  that  only  their 
dust  will  remain.  But  God  grant  that  we  may  all  meet, 
happy  children  again,  young  with  the  new  life  of  the  im 
mortals,  on  some  happy  playground  of  the  heavenly  life  ! 

But  poor  little  houses  of  moss  and  cedar  boughs,  you 
are  broken  down  years  and  years  ago,  trampled  down  into 
dust,  and  the  dust  blown  away  by  the  rushin'  years. 
Blown  away,  but  gathered  up  agin  lay  careful  old  Nature, 
nourishin'  with  it  a  newer,  fresher  growth. 

I  don't  s'pose  any  of  us  really  hanker  after  growin'  old ; 
sometimes  I  kinder  hate  to ;  and  so  I  told  Josiah  one  day. 

And  he  says,  "Why,  we  hain't  the  only  ones  that  is 
growin'  old.  Why,  everybody  is  as  old  as  we  be,  that 
wuz  born  at  the  same  time ;  and  lots  of  folks  are  older. 


N 


THE   OLD    SCHOOLHOUSE. 


290  SWEET  CICELY. 

Why,  there  is  uncle  Nate  Gowdey,  and  aunt  Seeny :  they 
are  as  old  agin,  almost." 

Says  I,  "  That  is  a  great  comfort  to  meditate  on,  Josiah ; 
but  it  don't  take  away  all  the  sting  of  growin'  old." 

And  he  said  "  he  didn't  care  a  dumb  about  it,  if  he 
didn't  have  to  work  so  hard."  He  said  "  he'd  fairly  love 
to  grow  old  if  he  could  do  it  easy,  kinder  set  down  to  it." 

(Now,  that  man  don't  work  so  very  hard.  But  don't 
tell  him  I  said  so  :  he's  real  fractious  on  that  subject, 
caused,  I  think,  by  rheumatiz,  and  mebby  the  Plan.) 

I  told  Josiah  that  it  wouldn't  make  growin'  old  any 
easier  to  set  down,  than  it  would  to  stand  up. 

I  don't  s'pose  it  makes  much  difference  about  our  bodies, 
anyway;  they  are  only  wrappers  for  the  soul:  the  real 
person  is  within.  But  then,  you  know,  you  get  sort  o'  at 
tached  to  your  own  body,  yourself,  you  know,  if  you  have 
lived  with  yourself  any  length  of  time,  as  we  have,  a  good 
many  of  us. 

You  may  not  be  handsome,  but  you  sort  o'  like  your 
own  looks,  after  all.  Your  eyes  have  a  sort  of  a  good  look 
to  you.  Your  hands  are  soft  and  white  ;  and  they  are 
your  own  too,  which  makes  'em  nearer  to  you ;  they  have 
done  sights  for  you,  and  you  can't  help  likin'  'em.  And 
your  mouth  looks  sort  o'  agreable  and  natural  to  you. 

You  don't  really  like  to  see  the  dimpled,  soft  hands 
change  into  an  older  person's  hands ;  you  kinder  hate  to 
change  the  face  for  an  older,  more  care-worn  face  ;  you 
get  sick  of  lookin'-glasses. 

And  sometimes  you  feel  a  sort  of  a  homesick  longin'  for 
your  old  self  —  for  the  bright,  eager  face  that  looked  back 
to  you  from  the  old  lookin'-glass  on  summer  mornin's, 


SWEET,  CICELY. 


291 


when  the  winder  was  open  out  into  the  orchard,  and  the 
May  birds  was  singin'  amidst  the  apple-blows.     The  red 


A   MAY   MORNING. 


lips  parted  with  a  happy  smile  ;  the  bright,  laughin'  eyes, 
sort  o'  soft  too,  and  wistful  —  wishful  for  the  good  that 


292  SWEET  CICELY. 

mebby  come  to  you,  and  mebby  didn't,  but  which  the 
glowin'  face  was  sure  of,  on  that  spring  morning  with  the 
May  birds  singin'  outside,  and  the  May  birds  singin' 
inside. 

Time  may  have  brought  you  some  thin'  better  —  better 
than  you  dreamed  of  on  that  summer  mornin'.  But  it  is 
different,  anyhow ;  and  you  can't  help  gettin'  kinder  home 
sick,  longin',  wantin'  that  pretty  young  face  again,  wantin' 
the  heart  back  again  that  went  with  it. 

Wall,  I  s'pose  we  shall  have  it  back  —  sometime.  I 
s'pose  we  shall  get  back  our  lost  youth  in  the  place  where 
we  first  got  it.  And  it  is  all  right,  anyway. 

We  must  move  on.  You  see,  Time  won't  stop  to  argue 
with  us,  or  dicker ;  and  our  settin'  down,  and  coaxin'  him 
to  stop  a  minute,  and  whet  his  scythe,  and  give  us  a 
chance  to  get  round  the  swath  he  cuts,  won't  ammount  to 
no  thin'  only  wastin'  our  breath.  His,  scythe  is  one  that 
don't  need  any  grindstun,  and  his  swath  is  one  that  must 
be  cut. 

No !  Time  won't  lean  up  aginst  fence  corners,  and 
wipe  his  brow  on  a  bandanna,  and  hang  round.  He  jest 
moves  right  on  —  up  and  down,  up  and  down.  On  each 
side  of  us  the  ripe  blades  fall,  and  the  flowers;  and  pretty 
soon  the  swath  will  come  right  towards  us,  the  grass-blades 
will  fall  nearer  and  nearer  —  a  turn  of  the  gleamin'  scythe, 
and  we,  too,  will  be  gone.  The  sunlight  will  rest  on  the 
turf  where  our  shadows  were,  and  one  blade  of  grass  will- 
be  missed  out  of  that  broad  harvest-field  more  than  we 
will  be,  when  a  few  short  years  have  rolled  by. 

The  beauty  and  the  clamor  of  life  will  go  on  without  us. 
You  see,  we  hain't  needed  so  much  as  we  in  our  egotism 


SWEET  CICELY.  293 

think  we  are.  The  world  will  get  along  without  us,  while 
we  rest  in  peace. 

But  until  then  we  have  got  to  move  along:  we  can't 
set  down  anywhere,  and  set  there.  No :  if  we  want  to 
be  fore  mothers  and  fore  fathers,  we  mustn't  set  still :  we 
must  give  the  babies  a  chance  to  be  fore  mothers  and  fore 
fathers  too.  It  wouldn't  be  right  to  keep  the  babies  from 
bein'  ancestors. 

We  must  keep  a  movin'  on.  How  the  summer  follows 
the  spring,  and  the  winter  follows  the  autumn,  and  the 
years  go  by !  And  the  clouds  sail  on  through  the  sky,  and 
the  shadows  follow  each  other  over  the  grass,  and  the  grass 
fadeth. 

And  the  sun  moves  down  the  west,  and  the  twilight  fol 
lows  the  sun,  and  at  last  the  night  comes  —  and  then  the 
stars  shine. 

Strange  that  all  this  long  re  very  of  my  mind  should 
spring  from  that  letter  of  my  pardner's.  But  so  it  is. 
Why,  I  sot  probable  3  fourths  of  a  hour  —  entirely  by  the 
side  of  myself.  Why,  I  shouldn't  have  sensed  whether  I 
was  settin'  on  a  sofy  in  a  Washington  boarding-house  (a 
hard  one  too),  or  a  bed  of  flowers  in  Asia  Minor,  or  in  the 
middle  of  the  Desert  of  Sarah.  Why,  I  shouldn't  have 
sensed  Sarah  or  A.  Minor  at  all,  if  they  had  stood  right 
by  me,  I  was  so  lost  and  unbeknown  to  myself. 

But  anon,  or  pretty  nigh  that  time  (for  I  know  it  was 
ten  when  I  got  into  bed,  and  it  probable  took  me  %  an 
hour  to  comb  out  my  hair  and  wad  it  up,  and  ondress),  I 
rousted  up  out  of  my  revery,  and  realized  I  was  Josiah 
Allen's  wife  on  a  tower  of  Principle  and  Discovery.  I 
realized  I  was  a  forerunner,  and  on  the  eve  of  return  to 


294  SWEET  CICELY. 

the  bosom  of  my  family  (a  linen  bosom,  with  five  pleats 
on  a  side). 

Wall,  I  rese  betimes  in  the  mornin',  or  about  that  time, 
and  eat  a  good,  noble  breakfast,  so's  to  start  feelin'  well ; 
embraced  Cicely  and  the  boy,  who  asked  me  32  questions 
while  I  was  embracing  him  (I  kissed  liim  several  times, 
with  hugs  accordin') ;  and  then  I  took  leave  of  Sally  and 
Bub  Smith.  I  paid  for  my  board  honorable,  although  Sally 
said  she  would  not  take  any  pay  for  so  short  a  board.  But 
I  knew,  in  her  condition,  boards  of  any  length  should  be 
paid  for.  So  I  insisted,  and  the  board  was  paid  for.  I 
also  rewarded  Bub  Smith  for  his  efforts  at  doin'  my  errents, 
in  a  way  that  made  his  blushes  melt  into  a  glowin'  back 
ground  of  joyousness. 

And  then,  havin'  asked  the  hired  man  to  get  a  covered 
carriage  to  convey  my  body  to  the  depot,  and  my  trunk, 
I  left  Washington,  D.C. 

The  snort  of  the  engine  as  it  ketched  sight  of  me, 
sounded  friendly  to  me.  It  seemed  to  say  to  me,  — 

"  Forerunner,  your  runnin'  is  done,  and  well  done ! 
Your  labors  of  duty  and  anxiety  is  over.  Soon,  soon  will 
you  be  with  your  beloved  pardner  at  home." 

Home,  the  dearest  word  that  was  ever  said  or  sung. 

The  passengers  all  looked  good  to  me.  The  men's  hats 
looked  like  Josiah's.  They  looked  out  of  their  eyes  some 
as  he  did  out  of  hisen :  they  looked  good  to  me.  There 
was  one  man  upbraidin'  his  wife  about  some  domestic  mat 
ter,  with  crossness  in  his  tone,  but  affectionate  care  and 
interest  in  his  mean.  Oh,  how  good,  and  sort  o'  natural, 
he  did  look  to  me !  it  almost  seemed  as  if  my  Josiah  was 
there  by  my  side. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


295 


Never,  never,  does  the  cords  of  love  fairly  pull  at  your 
heart-strings,  a  drawin'  you  along  towards  your  heart's 
home,  your  heart's  desire,  as  when  you  have  been  off  a 
movin'  round  on  a  tower.  I  longed  for  my  dear  home,  I 
yearned  for  my  Josiah. 

I  arrove  at  Jonesville  as  night  was  a  lettin'  down  her 
cloudy  mantilly  fringed  with  stars  (there  wuzn't  a  star : 


AT   THE    DEPOT. 


I  jest  put  that  in  for  oritory,  and  I  don't  think  it  is  wrong 
if  I  tell  of  it  right  away). 

Evidently  Josiah's  creek  wus  better ;  for  he  wus  at  the 
depot  with  the  mair,  to  convey  my  body  home.  He  wus 
stirred  to  the  very  depths  of  his  heart  to  see  me  agin  ;  but 
he  struggled  for  calmness,  and  told  me  in  a  voice  con 
trolled  by  his  firm  will,  to  "  hurry  and  get  in,  for  the  mair 
wus  oneasy  standin'  so  long." 

T,  too,  felt  that  I  must  emulate  his  calmness ;  and  I 
says,  — 


296  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  I  can't  get  in  no  faster  than  I  can.  Do  hold  the  mair 
still,  or  I  can't  get  in  at  all." 

"  Wall,  wall !  hain't  I  a  holdin'  it  ?  Jump  in  :  there  is 
a  team  behind  a  Avaitin'." 

•  After  these  little  interchanges  of  thought  and  affection, 
there  was  silence  between  us.  Truly,  there  is  happiness 
enough  in  bein'  once  more  by  the  side  of  the  one  you 
love,  whether  you  speak  or  not.  And,  to  tell  the  truth,  I 
was  out  of  breath  hurryin'  so.  But  few  words  were  inter 
changed  until  the  peaceful  haven  of  home  was  reached. 

Some  few  words,  peaceful,  calm  words  were  uttered,  as 
to  what  we  wus  goin'  to  have  for  supper,  and  a  desire 
on  Josiah's  part  for  a  chicken-pie  and  vegitables  of  all 
kinds,  and  various  warm  cakes  and  pastries,  compromised 
down  to  plans  of  tender  steak,  mashed  potatoes,  cream 
biscuit,  lemon  custard,  and  coffee.  It  wus  settled  in  peace 
and  calmness.  He  looked  unstrung,  very  unstrung,  and 
wan,  considerable  wan.  But  I  knew  that  I  and  the  supper 
could  string  him  up  agin ;  and  I  felt  that  I  would  not 
speak  of  the  plan  or  the  creek,  or  any  agitatin'  subject, 
until  the  supper  was  over,  which  resolve  I  follered.  After 
the  table  was  cleared,  and  Josiah  looked  like  a  new  man, 
—  the  girl  bein'  out  in  the  kitchen  washin'  the  dishes,  —  I 
mentioned  the  creek ;  and  he  owned  up  that  he  didn't 
know  as  it  was  exactly  a  creek,  but  "  it  was  a  dumb  pain, 
anyway,  and  he  felt  that  he  must  see  me." 

It  is  sweet,  passing  sweet,  to  be  missed,  to  be  necessary 
to  the  happiness  of  one  you  love.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
it  is  bitter  to  know  that  your  pardner  has  prevaricated  to 
you,  and  so  the  sweet  and  the  bitter  is  mixed  all  through 
life. 


SWEET  CICELY.  297 

I  smiled  and  sithed  simultaneous,  as  it  were,  and 
dropped  down  the  creek. 

Then  with  a  calm  tone,  but  a  beatin'  heart,  I  took  up 
the  Plan,  and  presented  it  to  him.  I  wanted  to  find  out 
the  heights  and  depths  of  that  Plan  before  I  said  a  word 
about  my  own  adventures  at  Washington,  D.C.  Oh,  how 
that  plan  had  worried  me  !  But  the  minute  I  mentioned 
it,  Josiah  looked  as  if  he  would  sink.  And  at  first  he 
tried  to  move  off  the  subject,  but  I  wouldn't  let  him.  I 
held  him  up  firm  to  that  plan,  and,  to  use  a  poetical  image, 
I  hitched  him  there. 

Says  I,  "You  know  what  you  told  me,  Josiah,  —  you 
said  that  plan  would  make  you  beloved  and  revered." 

He  groaned. 

Says  I,  "  You  know  you  said  it  would  make  you  a  lion, 
and  me  a  lioness :  do  you  remember,  Josiah  Allen  ?  " 

He  groaned  awful. 

Says  I  firmly,  "It  didn't  make  you  a  lion,  did  it?" 

He  didn't  speak,  only  sithed.  But  says  I  firmly,  for  I 
wus  bound  to  come  to  the  truth  of  it,  — 

"  Are  you  a  lion  ?  " 

"No,"  says  he,  "I  hain't." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  then  what  be  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  fool,"  sa}^s  he  bitterly,  "  a  dumb  fool." 

"Wall,"  says  I  encouragingly,  "you  no  need  to  have 
laid  on  plans,  and  I  needn't  have  gone  off  on  no  towers  of 
discovery,  to  have  found  that  out.  But  now,"  says  I  in 
softer  axents,  for  I  see  he  did  indeed  look  agitated  and 
melancholy,  — 

"  Tell  your  Samantha  all  about  it."    • 

Says  he  mournfully,  "  I  have  got  to  find  4  The  Gimlet.' " 


298 


SWEET  CICELY. 


ARE  YOU  A  LION  ? 


SWEET  CICELY.  299 

"The  Gimlet!"  I  sithed  to  myself;  and  the  wild  and 
harrowin'  thought  went  through  me  like  a  arrow,  —  that 
my  worst  apprehensions  had  been  realized,  and  that  man 
had  been  a  writing  poetry. 

But  then  I  remembered  that  he  had  promised  me  years 
ago,  that  he  never  would  tackle  the  job  agin.  He  begun 
to  make  a  poem  when  we  was  first  married;  but  there 
wuzn't  no  great  harm  done,  for  he  had  only  wrote  two 
lines  when  I  found  it  out  and  broke  it  up. 

Bein'  jest  married,  I  had  a  good  deal  of  influence  over 
him ;  and  he  promised  me  sacred,  to  never,  never,  as  long 
as  he  lived  and  breathed,  try  to  write  another  line  of  poetry 
agin.  We  was  married  in  the  spring,  and  these  2  lines 
was  as  f oilers  :  — 

"  How  happified  this  spring  appears  — 
More  happier  than  I  ever  knew  springs  to  be,  shears." 

And  I  asked  him  what  he  put  the  "  shears  "  in  for,  and 
he  said  he  did  it  to  rhyme.  And  then  was  the  time,  then 
and  there,  that  I  made  him  promise  on  the  Old  Testament, 
never  to  try  to  write  a  line  of  poetry  agin.  And  I  felt  that 
he  could  not  do  himself  and  me  the  bitter  wrong  to  try  it 
agin,  and  still  I  trembled. 

And  right  while  I  was  tremblin',  he  returned,  and 
silently  laid  "  The  Gimlet "  in  my  lap,  and  sot  down,  and 
nearly  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  And  the  very  first 
piece  on  which  the  eye  of  my  spectacle  rested,  was  this : 
"  Josiah  Allen  on  a  Path-Master." 

And  I  dropped  the  paper  in  my  lap,  and  says  I,  — 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  now,  Josiah  Allen  ?  Have 
you  been  a  fightin'?  What  path-master  have  you  been 
on?" 


300 


SWEET  CICELY. 


"  I  hain't  been  on  any,"  says  he  sadly,  out  from  under 
his  hand.  "  I  headed  it  so,  to  have  a  strong,  takin'  title. 
You  know  they  'pinted  me  path-master  some  time  ago." 


JOSIAH   BEING   TREATED. 


I  groaned  and  sithed  to  that  extent  that  I  was  almost 
skairt  at  myself,  not  knowin'  but  I  would  have  the  high- 
stericks  unbeknown  to  me  (never  havin'  had  'em,  I  didn't 


SWEET  CICELY.  301 

know  exactly  what  the  symptoms  was),  and  I  felt  dred- 
fully.  But  anon,  or  pretty  nigh  anon,  I  grew  calmer,  and 
opened  the  paper,  and  read.  It  seemed  to  be  in  answer  to 
the  men  who  had  nominated  him  for  path-master,  and  it 
read  as  follers  :  — 

JOSIAH   ALLEN   ON  A   PATH-MASTER. 

Feller  Constituents  and  Male  Men  of  Jonesville  and  the  surroundin' 
and  adjacent  worlds  ! 

I  thank  you,  fellow  and  male  citizents,  I  thank  you  heartily,  and 
from  the  depths  of  my  bein',  for  the  honor  you  have  heaped  onto  me, 
in  pintin'  me  path-master. 

But  I  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  decline  it.  I  feel  that  I  must  keep 
entirely  out  of  political  matters,  and  that  I  cannot  be  induced  to  be 
path-master,  or  President,  or  even  United-States  senator.  I  have  not 
got  the  constitution  to  stand  it.  I  don't  feel  well  a  good  deal  of  the 
time.  My  liver  is  out  of  order,  I  am  liable  to  have  the  ganders  any 
minuce,  I  am  bilious,  am  troubled  with  rheumatiz  and  colic,  my  blood 
don't  circulate  proper.  I  have  got  a  weak  back,  and  lumbago,  and 
biles.  And  1  hain't  a  bit  well.  And  I  dassent  put  too  much  strain  on 
myself,  I  dassent. 

And  then,  I  am  a  husband  and  a  father.  I  have  sacred  duties  to 
perform  about,  nearer  and  more  sacred  duties,  that  I  dast  not  put 
aside  for  any  others. 

I  am  a  husband.  I  took  a  tender  and  confidin*  woman  away  from 
a  happy  home  (Mother  Smith's,  in  the  east  part  of  Jonesville),  and 
transplanted  her  (carried  her  in  a  one-horse  wagon  and  a  mare)  into 
my  own  home.  And  I  feel  that  it  is  my  first  duty  to  make  that  home 
the  brightest  spot  on  earth  to  her.  That  home  is  my  dearest  and 
most  sacred  treasure.  And  how  can  I  disturb  its  sweet  peace  with 
the  wild  turmoil  of  politics?  I  can  not.  I  dast  not. 

And  politics  are  dangerous  to  enter  into.  There  is  bad  folks  in 
Jonesville  'lection  day,  —  bad  men,  and  bad  women.  And  I  am  liable 
to  be  led  astray.  I  don't  want  to  be  led  astray,  but  I  feel  that  I  am 
liable  to. 


802  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  have  to  hear  swearin'.  Now,  I  don't  swear  myself.  (I  don't  call 
"dumb"  swearin',  nor  never  did.)  I  don't  swear,  but  I  think  of 
them  oaths  afterwards.  Twice  I  thought  of  'ern  right  in  prayer- 
meetin*  time,  and  it  worrys  me. 

I  have  to  see  drinkin'  goin'  on.  I  don't  want  to  drink;  but  they 
offer  to  treat  me,  old  friends  do,  and  Samantha  is  afraid  I  shall  yield 
to  the  temptation  ;  and  I  am  most  afraid  of  it  myself. 

Yes,  politics  is  dangerous  and  hardenin' ;  and,  should  I  enter  into 
the  wild  conflict,  I  feel  that  I  am  in  danger  of  losin'  all  them  tender, 
winnin'  qualities  that  first  won  me  the  love  of  my  Samantha.  I  dare 
not  imperil  her  peace,  and  mine,  by  the  effort. 

I  can  not,  I  dast  not,  put  aside  these  sacred  duties  that  Providence 
has  laid  upon  me.  My  wive's  happiness  is  the  first  thing  I  must  con 
sider.  Can  I  leave  her  lonely  and  unhappy  while  I  plunge  into  the 
wild  turmoil  of  caurkusses  and  town-meetin's,  and  while  I  go  to  'lec 
tion,  and  vote?  No. 

And  the  time  I  would  have  to  spend  in  study  in  order  to  vote  intel 
ligent,  I  feel  as  if  that  time  I  must  use  in  strugglin'  to  promote  the 
welfare  and  happiness  of  my  Samantha.  No,  I  dassent  vote,  I  das- 
sent  another  time. 

Again,  another  reason.     I  have   a  little   grandchild   growin'   up 

around  me.     I  owe  a  duty  to  her.     I  must  dandle  her  on  my  knee. 

I  must  teach  her  the  path  of  virtue  and  happiness.     If  I  do  not,  who 

.will?     For  though  there  are  plenty  to  make  laws,  and  to  vote,  little 

Samantha  Joe  has  but  one  grandpa  on  her  mother's  side. 

And  then,  I  have  sights  of  cares.  The  Methodist  church  is  to  be 
kep'  up :  I  am  one  of  the  pillows  of  the  church,  and  sometimes  it 
rests  heavy  on  me.  Sometimes  I  have  to  manage  every  way  to  get 
the  preacher's  salary.  I  am  school-trustee :  I  have  to  grapple  with 
the  deestrict  every  spring  and  fall.  The  teachers  are  high-headed,  the 
parents  always  dissatisfied,  and  the  children  act  like  the  Old  Harry. 
I  am  the  salesman  in  the  cheese-factory.  Anarky  and  quarellin' 
rains  over  me  offen  that  cheese-factory;  and  its  fault-findiri',  mis- 
trustin'  patrons,  embitters  my  life,  and  rends  my  mind  with  cares. 

The  care  of  providin'  for  my  family  wears  onto  me;  for  though 
Samantha  tends  to  things  on  the  inside  of  the  house,  I  have  to  tend 
to  things  outside,  and  I  have  to  provide  the  food  she  cooks. 


SWEET  CICELY.  303 

And  then,  I  have  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do.  Besides  my  barn- 
chores,  and  all  the  weavin'  cares  I  have  mentioned,  I  have  five  acres 
of  potatoes  to  hoe  and  dig,  a  barn  to  shingle,  a  pig-pen  to  new  cover, 
a  smoke-house  to  fix,  a  bed  of  beets  and  a  bed  of  turnips  to  dig,  — 
ruty  bagys,  —  and  four  big  beds  of  onions  to  weed  —  dumb  'em  i  and 
six  acres  of  corn  to  husk.  My  barn-floor  at  this  time  is  nearly  cov 
ered  with  stocks.  How  dare  I  leave  my  barn  in  confusion,  arid,  by 
my  disorderly  doin's,  run  the  risk  of  my  wive's  bein'  so  disgusted 
with  my  want  of  neatness  and  shiftlessness,  as  to  cause  her  to  get  dis 
satisfied  with  home  and  husband,  and  wander  off  into  paths  of  dissipa 
tion  and  vice?  Oh!  I  dassent,  I  dassent,  take  the  resk!  When  I 
think  of  all  the  terrible  evils  that  are  liable  to  come  onto  me,  I  feel 
that  1  dassent  vote  agin,  as  long  as  I  live  and  breathe  —  I  dast  not 
have  any  thing  whatever  to  do  with  politics. 

FINY.     THE  END. 

I  read  it  all  out  loud,  every  word  of  it,  interrupted  now 
and  then,  and  sometimes  oftener,  by  the  groans  of  my 
pardner.  And  as  I  finished,  I  looked  round  at  him,  and  I 
see  his  looks  was  dretful.  And  I  says  in  soothin'  tones  — 
for  oh !  how  a  companion's  distress  calls  up  the  tender 
feelin's  of  a  lovin'  female  pardner ! 

Says  I,  "  It  hain't  the  worst  piece  in  the  world,  Josiah 
Allen !  It  is  as  sensible  as  lots  of  political  pieces  I  have 
read."  Says  I,  "  Chirk  up  !  " 

"  It  hain't  the  piece  !  It  is  the  way  it  was  took,"  says 
he.  "  Life  has  been  a  burden  to  me  ever  sense  that  ap 
peared  in  '  The  Gimlet.'  Tongue  can't  tell  the  way  them 
Jonesvillians  has  sneered  and  jeered  at  me,  and  run  me 
down,  and  sot  on  me." 

I  sithed,  and  remained  a  few  moments  almost  lost  in 
thought ;  arid  then  says  I,  — 

"  Now,  if  you  are  more  composed  and  gathered  together, 


304  SWEET  CICELY. 

will  you  tell  your  companion  how  you  come  to  write  it  ? 
what  you  did  it  for?" 

"  I  did  it  to  be  populer,"  says  he,  out  from  under  his 
hand.  "I  thought  I  would  branch  off,  and  take  a  new 
turn,  and  not  act  so  fierce  and  wolfish  after  office  as  most 
of  'em  did.  I  thought  I  would  get  up  something  new  and 
uneek." 

"  Wall,  you  have,  uneeker  than  you  probable  ever  will 
agin.  But,  if  you  wanted  to  be  a  senator,  why  did  you 
refuse  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  politics  ?  " 

" I  did  it  to  be  urged"  says  he,  in  the  same  sad,  despair- 
in'  tones.  "I  made  the  move  to  be  loved  —  to  be  the 
favorite  of  the  Nation.  I  thought  after  they  read  that, 
they  would  be  fierce  to  promote  me,  fierce  as  blood-hounds. 
I  thought  it  would  make  me  the  most  populer  man  in 
Jonesville,  and  that  I  should  be  sought  after,  and  praised 
up,  and  follered." 

"  What  give  you  that  idee  ?  "  says  I  calmly. 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember  Letitia  Lanfear  ?  She 
wrote  a  article  sunthin'  like  this,  only  not  half  so  smart 
and  deep,  when  she  was  nominated  for  school-trustee,  and 
it  jest  lifted  her  right  up.  She  never  had  been  thought 
any  thing  off  in  Jonesville  till  she  wrote  that,  and  that 
was  the  makin'  of  her.  And  she  hadn't  half  the  reason 
to  write  it  that  I  have.  She  hadn't  half  nor  a  quarter 
the  cares  that  I  have  got.  She  was  a  widder,  educated 
high,  without  any  children,  with  a  comfortable  income, 
and  she  lived  in  her  brother's  family,  and  didn't  have  no 
cares  at  all. 

"  And  only  see  how  that  piece  lifted  her  right  up  ! 
They  all  said,  what  right  feelin',  what  delicacy,  what  a 


SWEET  CICELY. 


305 


noble,  heart-stirrin',  masterly  document  hern  was !  And 
I  hankered,  I  jest  hankered,  after  bein'  praised  up  as  she 
was.  And  I  thought,"  says  he  with  a  deep  sithe,  "  I 


I.ETITIA  LANFEAR. 


thought  I  should  get  as  much  agin  praise  as  she  did. 
I  thought  I  should  be  twice  as  populer,  because  it  wus 
sun  thin'  new  for  a  man  to  write  such  a  article.  I  thought 


306  SWEET  CICELY. 

I  should  be  all  the  rage  in  Jones ville.     I  thought  I  should 
be  a  lion."  , 

"  Wall,  accordin'  to  your  tell,  they  treat  you  like  one, 
don't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  speakin'  in  a  wild  animal  way."  Says 
he,  growin'  excited,  "  I  wish  I  ivuz  a  African  lion  right  out  j 
of  a  jungle  :  I'd  teach  them  Jonesvillians  to  get  out  of  my 
way.  I'd  love,  when  they  was  snickerin',  and  pokin'  fun 
at  me,  and  actin'  and  jeerin'  and  sneerin',  and  callin'  me 
all  to  nort,  I'd  love  to  spring  onto  'em,  and  roar." 

"  Hush,  Josiah,"  says  I.     "'Be  calm  !  be  calm  !  " 

"  I  won't  be  calm !  I  can't  see  into  it,"  he  hollered. 
"Why,  what  lifted  Letitia  Lanfear  right  up,  didn't  lift 
me  up.  Hain't  what's  sass  for  the  goose,  sass  for  the 
gander  ? " 

"No,"  says  I  sadly.  "  It  hain't  the  same  sass.  The  geese 
have  to  get  the  same  strength  from  it,  —  strength  to  swim 
in  the  same  water,  fly  over  the  same  fences,  from  the 
same  pursuers  and  avengers ;  and  they  have  to  grow  the 
same  feathers  out  of  it ;  but  the  sass,  the  sass  is  fur  dif 
ferent. 

"But,"  says  I,  "I  don't  approve  of  all  your  piece.  .A 
man,  as  a  general  thing,  has  as  much  time  as  a  woman  has. 
And  I'd  love  to  see  the  time  that  I  couldn't  do  a  job  as 
short  as  puttin'  a  letter  in  the  post-office.  Why,  I  never 
see  the  time,  even  when  the  children  was  little,  and  in 
cleanin'  house,  or  sugarin'-time,  but  what  I  could  ride  into 
Jonesville  every  day,  to  say  nothin'  of  once  a  year,  and 
lay  a  vote  onto  a  pole.  And  you  have  as  much  time  as  I 
do,  unless  it  is  springs  and  falls  and  hayin'-time.  And  if 
/could  do  it,  you  could.  I  don't  approve  of  such  talk. 


SWEET  CICELY.  807 

"  And  you  know  very  well  that  you  and  I  had  better 
spend  a  little  of  our  spare  time  a  studyin'  into  matters,  so 
as  to  vote  intelligently ;  study  into  the  laws  that  govern 
us  both,  — that  hang  us  if  we  break  'em,  and  protect  us  if 
we  obey  'em,  —  than  to  spend  it  a  whittlin'  shingles,  or 
wonderin'  whether  Miss  Bobbet's  next  baby  will  be  a  boy 
or  a  girl." 

"  Wall,"  says  he,  takin'  his  hand  down,  and  winkin',  —  a 
sort  of  a  shrewd,  knowin'  wink,  but  a  sad  and  dejected 
one,  too,  as  I  ever  see  wunk,  — 

"  I  didn't  have  no  idee  of  stoppin'  votin'." 

Says  I  coldly,  as  cold  as  Zero,  or  pretty  nigh  as  cold 
blooded  as  the  old  man, — 

"  Did  you  write  that  article  jest  for  the  speech  of  people  ? 
Didn't  you  have  no  principle  to  back  it  up  ?  " 

"  Wall,"  says  he  mournfully,  "  I  wouldn't  want  it  to  get 
out  of  the  family,  but  I'll  tell  you  the  truth.  I  didn't 
write  it  on  a  single  principle,  not  a  darn  principle.  I 
wrote  it  jest  for  popularity,  and  to  make  'em  fierce  to  pro 
mote  me." 

I  groaned  aloud,  and  he  groaned.  It  wus  a  sad  and 
groanful  time. 

Says  he,  "  I  pinned  my  faith  onto  Letitia  Lanfear.  And 
I  can't  understand  now,  why  a  thing  that  made  Letitia  so 
populer,  makes  me  a  perfect  outcast.  Hain't  we  both 
human  bein's  —  human  Methodists  arid  Jonesvillians  ?  " 
Says  he,  in  despairing  agonized  tone,  "  I  can't  see  through 
it." 

Says  I  soothenly,  "  Don't  worry  about  that,  Josiah,  for 
nobody  can.  It  is  too  deep  a  conundrum  to  be  seen 
through  :  nobody  has  ever  seen  through  it." 


308  SWEET  CICELY. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  he  couldn't  be  soothed;  and  agin  he 
kinder  sithed  out,  — 

"I  pinned  my  faith  onto  Letitia,  and  it  has  ondone 
me  ;  "  and  he  kinder  whimpered. 

But  I  says  firmly,  but  gently,  — 

"  You  will  hear  to  your  companion  another  time,  will 
you  not  ?  and  pin  your  faith  onto  truth  and  justice  and 
right?" 

"  No,  I  won't.  I  won't  pin  it  onto  nothin'  nor  nobody. 
I'm  done  with  politics  from  this  day." 

And  bad  as  we  both  felt,  this  last  speech  of  hisen  made 
a  glimmer  of  light  streak  up,  and  shine  into  my  future. 
Some  like  heat  lightenin'  on  summer  evenin's.  It  hain't 
so  much  enjoyment  at  the  time,  but  you  know  it  is  goin' 
to  clear  the  cloudy  air  of  the  to-morrow.  And  so  its  light 
is  sweet  to  you,  though  very  curious,  and  crinkley. 

And  as  mournful  and  sort  o'  curious  as  this  time  seemed 
to  me  and  to  Josiah,  yet  this  speech  of  hisen  made  me 
know  that  all  private  and  public  peril  connected  with  Hon. 
Josiah  Allen  was  forever  past  away.  And  that  thought 
cast  a  rosy  glow  onto  my  to-morrows. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

I  FOUND,  on  looldn'  round  the  house  the  next  mornin', 
that  Philury  had  kep'  things  in  quite  good  shape.  Al 
though  truly  the  buttery  looked  like  a  lonesome  desert, 
and  the  cubbards  like  empty  tents  the  Arabs  had  left 
desolate. 

But  I  knew  I  could  soon  make  'em  blossom  like  the 
rosy  with  provisions,  which  I  proceeded  at  once  to  do,  with 
Philury 's  help. 

While  I  wus  a  rollin'  out  the  pie-crust,  Philury  told  me 
"  she  had  changed  her  mind  about  long  engagements." 

And  while  I  wus  a  makin'  the  cookies,  she  broached  it 
to  me  that  "  she  and  Ury  was  goin'  to  be  married  the  next 
week." 

I  wus  agreable  to  the  idee,  and  told  her  so.  I  like  'em 
both.  Ury  is  a  tall,  limber-jinted  sort  of  a  chap,  sandy 
complected,  and  a  little  round  shouldered,  but  hard-workin' 
and  industrious,  and  seems  to  take  a  interest. 

His  habits  are  good :  he  never  drinks  any  thing  stronger 
than  root-beer,  and  he  never  uses  tobacco  —  never  has 
chawed  any  thing  to  our  house  stronger  than  gum.  He 
used  that,  I  have  thought  sometimes,  more  than  wuz  for 
his  good.  And  I  thought  it  must  be  expensive,  he  con- 

309 


310 


SWEET  CICELY. 


UKY. 


sumed  such  quantities  of  it. 
But  he  told  me  he  made  it 
himself  out  of  beeswax  and 
rozum. 

And  I  told  Josiah  that 
I  shouldn't  say  no  more 
about  it ;  because,  although 
it  might  be  a  foolish  habit, 
gum  was  not  what  you 
might  call  inebriatin';  it 
was  not  a  intoxicatin'  bev 
erage,  and  didn't  endanger 
the  publick  safety.  So  he 
kep'  on  a  chawin'  it,  to 
home  and  abroad.  He  kep' 
at  it  all  day,  and  at  night 
if  he  felt  lonesome. 

I  had  mistrusted  this, 
because  I  found  a  great 
chunk  now  and  then  on 
the  head -board;  and  I 
tackled  him  about  it,  and 
"  he  owned  up. 

"  When  he  felt  lonesome 
in  the  night,"  he  said, 
"gum  sort  o'  consoled 
him." 

Well,  I  thought  that  in 
a  great  lonesome  world, 
that  needed  comfort  so 
much,  if  he  found  gum  a 


SWEET  CICELY.  811 

consoler,  I  wouldn't  break  it  up.  So  I  kep'  still,  and 
would  clean  the  head-board  silently  with  kerosine  and  a 
woolen  rag. 

And  Philury  is  a  likely  girl.  Very  freckled,  but  modest 
and  unassuming.  She  is  little,  and  has  nice  little  features, 
and  a  round  little  face ;  and  though  she  can't  be  said  to 
resemble  it  in  every  particular,  yet  I  never  could  think  of 
any  thing  whenever  I  see  her,  but  a  nice  little  turkey-egg. 

She  is  very  obligin',  and  would  always  curchy  and  smile, 
and  say  "  Yes'm  "  whenever  I  asked  her  to  do  any  thing. 
She  always  would,  and  always  will,  I  s'pose,  do  jest  what 
you  tell  her  to,  —  as  near  as  she  can  ;  and  she  is  thought 
a  good  deal  of. 

Wall,  she  has  liked  Ury  for  some  time  —  that  has  been 
plain  to  see :  she  thought  her  eyes  of  him,  and  he  of  her. 
He  has  got  eight  or  nine  hundred  dollars  laid  up ;  and  I 
thought  it  was  well  enough  for  'em  to  marry  if  they  wanted 
to,  and  so  I  told  Josiah  the  first  time  he  come  into  the 
house  that  forenoon. 

And  he  said  "  he  guessed  our  thinkin'  about  it  wouldn't 
alter  it  much,  one  way  or  the  other." 

And  I  said  "  I  s'posed  riot."  But  says  I,  "  I  spoke  out, 
because  I  feel  quite  well  about  it.  I  like  'em  both,  and 
think  they'll  make  a  happy  couple :  and  to  show  my  wil- 
lin'ness  still  further,  I  mean  to  make  a  weddin'  for  her ; 
for  she  hain't  got  no  mothers,  and  Miss  Gowdy  won't  have 
it  there,  for  you  know  there  has  been  such  a  hardness 
between  'em  about  that  grindstun.  So  I'll  have  it  here, 
get  a  good  supper,  and  have  'em  married  off  respectable." 

He  hung  back  a  little  at  first,  but  I  argued  him  down. 
Says  I,  — 


312  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  I  have  heerd  you  say,  time  and  agin,  that  you  liked 
'em,  and  wanted  'em  to  do  well :  now,  what  do  good 
wishes  ammount  to,  unless  you  are  willin'  to  back  'em  up 
with  good  acts  ?  "  Says  I,  "  I  might  say  that  I  wished  'em 
well  and  happy,  and  that  would  be  only  a  small  expenda- 
ture  of  wind,  that  wouldn't  be  no  loss  to  me,  and  no  pe- 
tickuler  help  to  them.  But  if  I  show  my  good  will 
towards  'em  by  stirrin'  up  fruit-cakes  and  bride-cake,  and 
pickin'  chickens,  and  pressin'  'em,  and  makiri'  ice-cream 
and  coffee  and  sandwitches,  and  workin'  myself  completely 
tired  out,  a  wishin'  'em  well,  why,  then  they  can  depend 
on  it  that  I  am  sincere  in  my  good  wishes." 

"  Wall,"  says  Josiah,  "  if  you  wish  me  well,  I  wish  you 
would  get  me  a  little  sunthin'  to  eat  before  I  starve  :  it  is 
past  eleven  o'clock." 

"  The  hand  is  on  the  pinter,"  says  I  calmly.  "  But  start 
a  good  fire,  and  I  will  get  dinner." 

So  he  did,  and  I  did,  and  he  never  made  no  further 
objections  to  my  enterprise ;  and  it  was  all  understood 
that  I  should  get  their  weddin'  supper,  and  they  should 
start  from  here  on  their  tower. 

And  I  offered,  as  she  and  Miss  Gowdy  didn't  agree, 
that  she  might  come  back  here,  if  she  wanted  to,  and  get 
some  quiltin'  done,  and  get  ready  for  housekeepin'.  She 
was  tickled  enough  with  the  idee,  and  said  she  would  help 
me  enough  to  pay  for,  her  board.  Ury's  time  wouldn't  be 
out  till  about  a  month  later. 

I  told  her  she  needn't  work  any  for  me.  But  she  is  a 
dretful  handy  little  thing  about  the  house,  or  outdoors. 
When  Josiah  was  sick,  and  when  the  hired  man  happened 
to  be  away,  she  would  go  right  out  to  the  barn,  and  fodder 


SWEET  CICELY.  313 

the  cattle  jest  as  well  as  a  man  could.  And  Josiah  said 
she  milked  faster  than  he  could,  to  save  his  life.  Her 
father  had  nine  girls  and  no  boys  ;  and  he  brought  some 
of  the  girls  up  when  they  was  little,  kinder  boy-like,  and 
they  knew  all  about  outdoor  work. 

Wall,  it  was  all  decided  on,  that  they  should  come  right 
back  here  jest  as  soon  as  they  ended  their  tower.  They 
was  a  goin'  to  Ury's  sister's,  Miss  Reuben  Henzy's,  and 
laid  out  to  be  gone  about  four  days,  or  from  four  days  to 
a  week. 

And  I  went  to  cookin'  for  the  weddin'  about  a  week 
before  it  took  place.  I  thought  I  would  invite  the  minis 
ter  and  his  wife  and  family,  and  Philury's  sister-in-law's 
family,  —  the  only  one  of  her  relations  who  lived  near  us, 
and  she  was  poor;  and  her  classmates  at  Sunday  school, — 
there  was  twelve  of  'em,  —  and  our  children  and  their 
families.  And  I  asked  Miss  Gowdey'ses  folks,  but  didn't 
expect  they  would  come,  owin'  to  that  hardness  about  the 
grindstun.  But  everybody  else  come  that  was  invited ; 
and  though  I  am  far  from  bein'  the  one  that  ort  to  say  it, 
the  supper  was  successful.  It  was  called  "  excellent  "  by 
the  voice,  and  the  far  deeper  language  of  consumption. 

They  all  seemed  to  enjoy  it :  and  Ury  took  out  his  gum, 
and  put  it  under  the  table-leaf  before  he  begun  to  eat ;  and 
I  found  it  there  afterwards.  He  was  excited,  I  s'pose,  and 
forgot  to  take  it  agin  when  he  left  the  table. 

Philury  looked  pretty.  She  had  on  a  travellin'-dress  of 
a  sort  of  a  warm  brown,  —  a  color  that  kinder  set  off  her 
freckles.  It  was  woosted,  and  trimmed  with  velvet  of  a 
darker  shade  ;  and  her  hat  and  her  gloves  matched. 

Her  dress  was  picked  out  to  suit  me.     Ury  wanted  her 


314 


SWEET  CICELY. 


to  be  married  in  a  yellow  tarleton,  trimmed  with  red. 
And  she  was  jest  that  obleegin',  clever  creeter,  that  she 
would  have  done  it  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me. 

I  says  to  her  and  to  him,  — 

"What  use  would  a  yeller  tarleton  trimmed  with  red 
be  to  her  after  she  is  married,  besides  lookin'  like  fury 
now  ?  "  Says  I,  "  Get  a  good,  sensible  dress,  that  will  do 


THE   WEDDING   SUPPER. 

some  good  after  marriage,  besides  lookin'  good  now." 
Says  I,  "  Marriage  hain't  exactly  in  real  life  like  what  it 
is  depictered  in  novels.  Life  don't  end  there :  folks  have 
to  live  afterwards,  and  dress,  and  '•work."  Says  I,  "  If 
marriage  was  really  what  it  is  painted  in  that  literature  — 
if  you  didn't  really  have  nothin'  to  do  in  the  future,  only 
to  set  on  a  rainbow,  and  eat  honey,  why,  then,  a  yaller 
tarleton  dress  with  red  trimmin's  would  be  jest  the  thing 
to  wear.  But,"  says  T,  "you  will  find  yourself  in  the  same 


SWEET  CICELY.  315 

old  world,  with  the  same  old  dishcloths  and  wipin'-towels 
and  mops  a  waitin'  for  you  to  grasp,  with  the  same  pair 
of  hands.  You  will  have  to  konfront  brooms  and  wash- 
tubs  and  darnin '-needles  and  socks,  and  etcetery,  etcetery. 
And  you  must  prepare  yourself  for  the  enkounter." 

She  heerd  to  me ;  and  that  very  day,  after  we  had  the 
talk,  I  took  her  to  Jonesville,  drivin'  the  old  mare  myself, 
and  stood  by  her  while  she  picked  it  out.  • 

And  thinkin'  she  was  young  and  pretty,  and  would 
want  some  thin'  gay  and  bright,  I  bought  some  flannel  for 
a  mornin'-dress  for  her,  and  give  it  to  her  for  a  present. 
It  was  a  pretty,  soft  gray  and  pink,  in  stripes  about  half  a 
inch  wide,  and  would  be  pretty  for  her  for  years,  to  wear 
in  the  house,  and  when  she  didn't  feel  well. 

I  knew  it  would  wash. 

She  was  awful  tickled  with  it.  And  I  bought  a  present 
for  Ury  on  that  same  occasion,  —  two  fine  shirts,  and  two 
pair  of  socks,  with  gray  toes  and  heels,  to  match  the 
mornin'-dress.  I  do  love  to  see  things  kompared,  espe 
cially  in  such  a  time  as  this. 

My  weddin'  present  for  'em  was  a  nice  cane-seat  rocker, 
black  walnut,  good  and  stout,  and  very  nice  lookin'.  And 
knowin'  she  hadn't  no  mother  to  do  for  her,  I  gave  her  a 
pair  of  feather  pillows  and  a  bed-quilt,  —  one  that  a  aunt 
of  mine  had  pieced  up  for  me.  It  was  a  blazin'  star,  a 
bright  red  and  yeller,  and  it  had  always  sort  o'  dazzled  me. 

Ury  worshiped  it.  I  had  kept  it  on  his  bed  ever  sense 
I  knew  what  feelin's  he  had  for  it.  He  had  said  "  that  he 
didn't  see  how  any  thing  so  beautiful  could  be  made  out  of 
earthly  cloth."  And  I  thought  now  was  my  time  to  part 
with  it. 


316  SWEET  CICELY. 

Wall,  they  had  lots  of  good  presents.  I  had  advised 
the  children,  and  the  Sunday-school  children,  that,  if  they 
was  gohv  to  give  'em  any  thing,  they  would  give  'em 
somethin'  that  would  do  'em  some  good. 

Says  I,  "  Perforated  paper  lambrequins,  and  feather 
flowers,  and  cotton-yarn  tidies,  look  well ;  but,  after  all, 
they  are  not  what  you  may  call  so  nourishin'  as  some  other 
things.  And  there  will  probable  rise  in  their  future  life 
contingencies  where  a  painted  match-box,  and  a  hair-pin 
receiver,  and  a  card-case,  will  have  no  power  to  charm. 
Even  china  vases  and  toilet-sets,  although  estimable,  will 
not  bring  up  a  large  family,  arid  educate  them,  especially 
for  the  ministry." 

I  s'pose  I  convinced  'em ;  for,  as  I  heerd  afterwards,  the 
class  had  raised  fifty  cents  apiece  to  get  perforated  paper, 
woosted  yarn,  and  crystal  beads.  But  they  took  it,  and 
got  her  a  set  of  solid  silver  teaspoons :  the  store-keeper 
threw  off  a  dollar  or  two  for  the  occasion.  They  was 
good  teaspoons. 

And  our  children  got  two  good  linen  table-cloths,  and  a 
set  of  table-napkins ;  and  the  minister's  wife  brought  her 
four  towels,  and  the  sister-in-law  a  patch-work  bed-quilt. 
And  Reuben  Henzy's  wife  sent  'em  the  money  to  buy  'em 
a  set  of  chairs  and  a  extension  table ;  and  a  rich  uncle  of 
hiseii  sent  him  the  money  for  a  ingrain  carpet ;  and  a  rich 
uncle  of  hern  in  the  Ohio  sent  her  the  money  for  a  bed 
room  set,  —  thirty-two  dollars,  with  the  request  that  it 
should  be  light  oak,  with  black-walnut  trimmin's. 

And  I  had  all  the  things  got,  and  took  'em  up  in  one  of 
our  chambers,  so  folks  could  see  'em.  And  I  beset  Josiah 
Allen  to  give  'em  for  his  present,  a  nice  bedroom  carpet. 


SWEET  CICELY.  317 

But  no :  he  had  got  his  mind  made  up  to  give  Ury  a  year- 
lin'  calf,  and  calf  it  must  be.  But  he  said  "he  would 
give  in  to  me  so  fur,  that,  seem'  I  wanted  to  make  such  a 
show,  if  I  said  so,  he  would  take  the  calf  up-stairs,  and 
hitch  it  to  the  bed-post." 

But  I  wouldn't  parlay  with  him. 

Wall,  the  weddin'  went  off  first-rate :  things  went  to 
sviit  me,  all  but  one  thing.  I  didn't  love  to  see  Ury 
chew  gum  all  the  time  they  was  bein'  married.  But  he 
took  it  out  and  held  it  in  his  hand  when  he  said  "  Yes, 
sir,"  when  the  minister  asked  him,  would  he  have  this 
woman.  And  when  she  was  asked  if  she  would  have 
Ury,  she  curchied,  and  said,  "  Yes,  if  you  please,"  jest  as 
if  Ury  was  roast  veal  or  mutton,  and  the  minister  was  a 
passin'  him  to  her.  She  is  a  good-natured  little  thing, 
and  always  was,  and  willin'. 

Wall,  they  was  married  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon  ;  and  Josiah  sot  out  with  'em,  to  take  'em  to  the  six 
o'clock  train,  for  their  tower. 

The  company  staid  a  half-hour  or  so  afterwards:  and 
the  children  stayed  a  little  longer,  to  help  me  do  up  the 
work;  and  finally  they  went.  And  I  went  up  into 
the  spare  chamber,  and  sort  o'  fixed  Philury's  things  to 
the  best  advantage ;  for  I  knew  the  neighbors  would 
be  in  to  look  at  'em.  And  I  was  a  standin'  there  as 
calm  and  happy  as  the  buro  or  table,  —  and  they  looked 
very  light  and  cheerful,  —  when  all  of  a  sudden  the  door 
opened,  and  in  walked  Ury  Henzy,  and  asked  me,  — 

"  If  I  knew  where  his  overhauls  was  ?  " 

You  could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a  pin-feather, 
as  it  were,  I  was  so  smut  and  dumb-foundered. 


318 


SWEET  CICELY. 


Says  I,  "  Ury  Henzy,  is  it  your  ghost  ?  "  says  I,  "  or  be 
you  Ury  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  Ury,"  says  he,  lookin',  I  thought,  kinder  dis 
appointed  and  curious. 

"Where  is  Philury?  "  says  I  faintly. 


"YES,   IF   YOU  PLEASE." 

"  She  has  gone  on  her  tower,"  says  he. 

Says  I,  "Then,  you  be  a  ghost:  you  hain't  Ury,  and 
you  needn't  say  you  be." 

But  jest  at  that  minute  in  come  Josiah  Allen  a  snick- 
erin' ;  and  says  he,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  319 

"  I  have  done  it  now,  Samantha.  I  have  done  some- 
thin'  now,  that  is  new  and  uneek." 

And  as  he  see  my  strange  and  awful  looks,  he  con 
tinued,  "You  know,  you  always  say  that  you  want  a 
change  now  and  then,  and  somethin'  new,  to  pass  away 
time." 

"And  I  shall  most  probable  get  it,"  says  I,  groanin', 
"  as  long  as  I  live  with  you.  Now  tell  me  at  once,  what 
you  have  done,  Josiah  Allen !  I  know  it  is  your  doin's." 

"Yes,"  says  he  proudly,  "yes,  mom.  Ury  never  would 
have  thought  of  it,  or  Philury.  I  got  it  up  myself,  out 
of  my  own  head.  It  is  original,  and  I  want  the  credit  of 
it  all  myself." 

Says  I  faintly,  "I  guess  you  won't  be  troubled  about 
gettin'  a  patent  for  it."  Says  I,  "  What  ever  put  it  into 
your  head  to  do  such  a  thing  as  this  ?  " 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I  got  to  thinkin'  of  it  on  the  way  to 
the  cars.  Philury  said  she  would  love  to  go  and  see  her 
sister  in  Buffalo ;  and  Ury,  of  course,  wanted  to  go  and 
see  his  sister  in  Rochester.  And  I  proposed  to  'em  that 
she  should  go  first  to  Buffalo,  and  see  her  folks,  and  when 
she  got  back,  he  should  go  to  Rochester,  and  see  his  folks. 
I  told  her  that  I  needed  Ury's  help,  and  she  could  jest  as 
well  go  alone  as  not,  after  we  got  her  ticket.  And  then 
in  a  week  or  so,  when  she  had  got  her  visit  made  out,  she 
could  come  back,  and  help  do  the  chores,  and  tend  to 
things,  and  Ury  could  go.  Ury  hung  back  at  first.  But 
she  smiled,  and  said  she  would  do  it." 

I  groaned  aloud.  "  That  clever  little  creeter !  You 
have  imposed  upon  her,  and  she  has  stood  it." 

"  Imposed   upon   her  ?     I    have    made    her   a    heroine. 


320  SWEET  CICELY. 

Folks  will  make  as  much  agin  of  her.  I  don't  believe 
any  female  ever  done  any  thing  like  it  before,  —  not  in  any 
novel,  or  any  thing." 

"  No,"  I  groaned.     "  I  don't  believe  they  ever  did." 

"  It  will  make  her  sought  after.  I  told  her  it  would. 
Folks  will  jest  run  after  her,  they  will  admire  her  so  ;  and 
so  I  told  her." 

Says  I,  "Josiah  Allen,  you  did  it  because  you  didn't 
want  to  milk.  Don't  try  to  make  out  that  you  had  a  good 
motive  for  this  awful  deed.  Oh,  dear  !  how  the  neighbors 
will  talk  about  it !  " 

"  Wall,  dang  it  all,  when  they  are  a  talkin'  about  this, 
they  won't  be  lyin'  about  something  else." 

"  O  Josiah  Allen  !  "  says  I.  "  Don't  ever  try  to  do  any 
thing,  or  say  any  thing,  or  lay  on  any  plans  agin,  without 
lettin'  me  know  beforehand." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  why  it  hain't  jest  as  well  for  'em  to 
go  one  at  a  time  ?  They  are  both  a  goin\  You  needn't 
worry  about  that.  I  hain't  a  goin'  to  break  that  up." 

I  groaned  awful ;  and  he  snapped  out,  — 

"  I  want  sunthin'  to  eat." 

"To  eat?"  says  I.  "Can  you  eat  with  such  a  con 
science  ?  Think  of  that  poor  little  freckled  thing  way  off 
there  alone ! " 

"  That  poor  little  freckled  thing  is  with  her  folks  by  this 
time,  as  happy  as  a  king."  But  though  he  said  this  sort 
o'  defient  like,  he  begun  to  feel  bad  about  what  he  had 
done,  I  could  see  it  by  his  looks ;  but  he  tried  to  keep  up, 
and  says  he,  "My  conscience  is  clear,  clear  as  a  crystal 
goblet ;  and  my  stomack  is  as  empty  as  one.  I  didn't  eat 
a  mouthful  of  supper.  Cake,  cake,  and  ice-cream,  and 


SWEET  CICELY.  321 

jell !  a  dog  couldn't  eat  it.  I  want  some  potatoes  and 
meat ! " 

And  then  he  started  out ;  and  I  went  down,  and  got 
a  good  supper,  but  I  sithed  and  groaned  powerful  and 
frequent. 

Philury  got  home  safely  from  her  bridal  tower,  lookin' 
clever,  but  considerable  lonesome. 

Truly,  men  are  handy  on  many  occasions,  and  in  no 
place  do  they  seem  more  useful  and  necessary  than  on  a 
weddin'  tower. 

Ury  seemed  considerable  tickled  to  have  her  back  agin. 
And  Josiah  would  whisper  to  me  every  chance  he  got,  — 

"  That  now  she  had  got  back  to  help  him,  it  was  Ury's 
turn  to  go,  and  there  wuzn't  nothin'  fair  in  his  not  havin' 
a  tower."  Josiah  always  stands  up  for  his  sect. 

And  I  would  answer  him  every  time,  — 

"That  if  I  lived,  Philury  and  Ury  should  go  off  on  a 
tower  together,  like  human  bein's." 

And  Josiah  would  look  cross  and  dissatisfied,  and  mutter 
somethin'  about  the  milkin'.  There  was  where  the  shoe 
pinched. 

Wall,  right  when  he  was  a  mutterin'  one  day,  Cicely  got 
back  from  Washington.  And  he  stopped  lookin'  cross, 
and  looked  placid,  and  sunshiny.  That  man  thinks  his 
eyes  of  Cicely,  both  of  'em ;  and  so  do  I. 

But  I  see  that  she  looked  fagged  out. 

And  she  told  me  how  hard  she  had  worked  ever  sence 
she  had  been  gone.  She  had  been  to  some  of  the  biggest 
temperance  meetin's,  and  had  done  every  thing  she  could 
with  her  influence  and  her  money.  She  was  willin'  to 
spend  her  money  like  rain-water,  if  it  would  help  any. 


322  SWEET  CICELY. 

But  she  said  it  seemed  as  if  the  powers  against  it  was 
greater  than  ever,  and  she  was  heart-sick  and  weary. 

She  had  had  another  letter  from  the  executor,  too,  that 
worried  her. 

She  told  me  that,  after  she  went  up  to  her  room  at  night, 
and  the  boy  was  asleep. 

She  had  took  off  her  heavy  mournin '-dress,  covered  with 
crape,  and  put  on  a  pretty  white  loose  dress ;  and  she  laid 
her  head  down  in  my  lap,  and  I  smoothed  her  shinin'  hair, 
and  says  to  her,  — 

"  You  are  all  tired  out  to-night,  Cicely :  you'll  feel  bet 
ter  in  the  mornin'." 

But  she  didn't :  she  was  sick  in  bed  the  next  day,  and 
for  two  or  three  days. 

And  it  was  arranged,  that,  jest  as  quick  as  she  got  well 
enough  to  go,  I  was  to  go  with  her  to  see  the  executor,  to 
see  if  we  couldn't  make  him  change  his  mind.  It  was  only 
half  a  day's  ride  on  the  cars,  and  I'd  go  further  to  please 
her. 

But  she  was  sick  for  most  a  week.  And  the  boy  meant 
to  be  good.  He  wanted  to  be,  and  I  know  it. 

But  though  he  was  such  a  sweet  disposition,  and  easy  to 
mind,  he  was  dretful  easy  led  away  by  temptation,  and 
other  boys. 

Now,  Cicely  had  told  him  that  he  must  not  go  a  fishin'  in 
the  creek  back  of  the  house,  there  was  such  deep  places  in 
it ;  and  he  must  not  go  there  till  he  got  older. 

And  he  would  mean  to  mind,  I  would  know  it  by  his 
looks.  He  would  look  good  and  promise.  But  mebby 
in  a  hour's  time  little  Let  Peedick  would  stroll  over 
here,  and  beset  the  boy  to  go ;  and  the  next  thing  she'd 


SWEET   CICELY. 


323 


LED   ASTRAY. 


324  SWEET  CICELY. 

know,  he  would  be  down  to  the  creek,  fishin'  with  a  bent 
pin. 

And  Cicely  had  told  him  he  mustnt  go  in  a  swimmin'. 
But  he  went ;  and  because  it  made  his  mother  feel  bad,  he 
would  deceive  her  jest  as  good-natured  as  you  ever  see. 

Why,  once  he  come  in  with  his  pretty  brown  curls  all 
wet,  and  his  little  shirt  on  wrong  side  out. 

He  was  kinder  whistlin',  and  try  in'  to  act  indifferent 
and  innocent.  And  when  his  mother  questioned  him 
about  it,  he  said,  — 

"  He  had  drinked  so  much  water,  that  it  had  soaked 
through  somehow  to  his  hair.  And  he  turned  his  shirt 
gettin'  over  the  fence.  And  we  might  ask  Let  Peedick  if 
it  wuzn't  so." 

We  could  hear  Letty  a  whistlin'  out  to  the  barn,  and 
we  knew  he  stood  ready  to  say  "  he  see  the  shirt  turn." 

But  we  didn't  ask. 

But  when  the  boy  see  that  his  actin'  and  behavin'  made 
his  mother  feel  real  bad,  he  would  ask  her  forgiveness  jest 
as  sweet ;  and  I  knew  he  meant  to  do  jest  right,  and 
mebby  he  would  for  as  much  as  an  hour,  or  till  some 
temptation  come  along  —  or  boy. 

But  the  good-tempered  easiness  to  be  led  astray  made 
Cicely  feel  like  death :  she  had  seen  it  in  another ;  she  see 
it  was  a  inherited  trait.  And  she  could  see  jest  how  hard 
it  was  goin'  to  make  his  future  :  she  would  try  her  best  to 
break  him  of  it.  But  how,  how  was  she  goin'  to  do  it, 
with  them  weak,  good-natured  lips,  and  that  chin  ? 

But  she  tried,  and  she  prayed. 

And,  oh,  how  we  all  loved  the  boy!  We  loved  him  as 
we  did  the  apples  in  our  eyes. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


325 


But  as  I  said,  he  was  a  child  that  had  his  spells.  Some 
times  he  would  be  very  truthful  and  honest,  —  most  too 
much  so.  That  was  when  he  had  his  sort  o'  dreamy  spells. 


THE   BOY'S   EXPLANATION. 


I  know  one  day,  she  that  wus  Kezier  Lum  come  here  a 
visitin'.  She  is  middlin'  old,  and  dretful  humbly. 

Paul  sot  and  looked  at  her  face  for  a  long  time,  with 
that  sort  of  a  dreamy  look  of  hisen  ;  and  finally  he  says, — 


326 


SWEET  CICELY. 


"  Was  you  ever  a  young  child  ?  " 
And  she  says,  — 

"  Why,  law  me !  yes,  I  s'pose  so." 
And  he  says,  — 

"  I  think  I  would  rather  have  died  young,  than  to  grow 

up,  and  be  so  homely." 

I  riz  up,  and  led  him  out 
of  the  room  quick,  and 
told  him  "  never  to  talk  so 
agin." 

And  he  says,  — 
"  Why,  I  told  the  truth, 
aunt  Samantha." 

"Wall,  truth  hain't  to  be 
spoken  at  all  times." 

"  Mother  punished  me 
last  night  for  not  telling 
the  truth,  and  told  me  to 
tell  it  always." 

And  then  I  tried  to  ex 
plain  things  to  him ;  and 
he  looked  sweet,  and  said 

"he  would  try  and  remember  not  to  hurt  folks'es  feelin's." 
He  never  thought  of  doin'  it  in  the  first  place,  and  I 
knew  it.     And  I  declare,  I  thought  to  myself,  as  I  went 
back  into  the  room,  — 

"  We  whip  children  for  tellin'  lies,  and  shake  'em  for 
tellin'  the  truth.  Poor  little  creeters !  they  have  a  hard 
time  of  it,  anyway." 

But  when  I  went  back  into  the  room,  I  see  Kezier  was 
mad.  And  she  said  in  the  course  of  our  conversation,  that 


SHE   THAT   WUS   KEZIER   LUM. 


SWEET  CICELY.  327 

"  she  thought  Cicely  was  too  much  took  up  on  the  subject 
of  intemperance,  and  some  folks  said  she  was  crazy  on  the 
subject." 

Kezier  was  always  a  high-headed  sort  of  a  woman,  with 
out  a  nerve  in  her  body.  I  don't  believe  her  teeth  has  got 
nerves ;  though  I  wouldn't  want  to  swear  to  it,  never 
havin'  filled  any  for  her. 

And  I  says  back  to  her,  for  it  made  me  mad  to  see  Cicely 
run,  — 

Says  I,  "  She  hain't  the  first  one  that  has  been  called 
crazy,  when  they  wus  workin'  for  truth  and  right.  And 
if  the  old  possles  stood  it,  to  be  called  crazy,  and  drunken 
with  new  wine  —  why,  I  s'pose  Cicely  can." 

"  Wall,"  says  she,  "  don't  you  believe  she  is  almost  crazy 
on  that  subject  ?  " 

Says  T,  deep  and  earnest,  "  It  is  a  good  crazy,  if  it  is. 
And,"  says  I,  "  to  s'posen  the  case,  —  s'posen  the  one  we 
loved  best  in  the  world,  your  Ebineezer,  or  my  Josiah, 
should  have  been  ruined,  and  led  into  murder,  by  drinkin' 
milk,  don't  you  believe  we  should  have  been  sort  o'  crazy 
ever  afterwards  on  the  milk  question  ?  " 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  milk  won't  make  anybody  crazy." 

There  it  wuz  —  she  hadn't  no  imagination. 

Says  I,  "  I  am  s'posen  milk,  I  don't  mean  it."  Says  I, 
u  Cicely  means  well." 

And  so  she  did,  sweet  little  soul. 

But  day  by  day  I  could  see  that  her  eagerness  to  accom 
plish  what  she  had  sot  out  to,  her  awful  anxiety  about  the 
boy's  future,  wus  a  weaiin'  on  her :  the  active,  keen  mind, 
the  throbbin',  achin'  heart,  was  a  wearin'  out  the  tender 
body. 


328  SWEET  CICELY. 

Her  eyes  got  bigger  and  bigger  every  day ;  and  her  face 
got  the  solemnest,  curiusest  look  to  it,  that  I  ever  see. 

And  her  cheeks  looked  more  and  more  like  the  pure 
white  blow  of  the  Sweet  Cicely,  only  at  times  there  would 
be  a  red  upon  'em,  as  if  a  leaf  out  of  a  scarlet  rose  had 
dropped  down  upon  their  pure  whiteness. 

That  would  be  in  the  afternoon ;  and  there  would  be 
such  a  dazzlin'  brightness  in  her  eyes,  that  I  used  to 
wonder  if  it  w*as  the  fire  of  immortality  a  bein'  kindled 
there,  in  them  big,  sad  eyes. 

And  right  about  this  time  the  executor  (and  I  wish  he 
could  have  been  executed  with  a  horse-whip:  he  knew 
how  she  felt  about  it)  —  he  wuz  sot,  a  good  man,  but  sot. 
Why,  his  own  sir  name  wuz  never  more  sot  in  the  ground 
than  he  wuz  sot  on  top  of  it.  And  he  didn't  like  a 
woman's  interference.  He  wrote  to  her  that  one  of  her 
stores,  that  he  had  always  rented  for  the  sale  of  factory- 
cloth  and  sheep's  clothin',  lamb's-wool  blankets,  and  etcet- 
ery,  he  had  had  such  a  good  offer  for  it,  to  open  a  new 
saloon  and  billiard-room,  that  he  had  rented  it  for  that 
purpose  ;  and  he  told  how  much  more  he  got  for  it.  That 
made  4  drinkin'  saloons,  that  wuz  in  the  boy's  property. 
Every  one  of  'em,  so  Cicely  felt,  a  lira  win'  some  other 
mother's  boys  down  to  ruin. 

Cicely  thought  of  it  nights  a  sight,  so  she  said,  —  said 
she  was  afraid  the  curses  of  these  mothers  would  fall  on 
the  boy. 

And  her  eyes  kep'  a  growin'  bigger  and  solenmer  like, 
and  her  face  grew  thinner  and  thinner,  and  that  red  flush 
would  burn  onto  her  cheeks  regular  every  afternoon,  and 
she  begun  to  cough  bad. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


329 


But  one  day  she  felt  better,  and  was  anxious  to  go.  So 
she  and  I  went  to  see  the  executor,  Condelick  Post. 

We  left  the  boy  with  Philury.  Josiah  took  us  to  the 

cars,  and  we  arrove  there  at  1  P.M.  We  went  to  the 


CONDELICK   POST. 


tarven,  and  got  dinner,  and  then  sot  out  for  Mr.  Post'ses 
office. 

He  greeted  Cicely  with  so  much  politeness  and  courtesy, 
and  smiled  so  at  her,  that  I  knew  in  my  own  mind  that  all 
she  would  have  to  do  would  be  to  tell  her  errent.  I  knew 


330  SWEET  CICELY. 

he  would  do  every  thing  jest  as  she  wanted  him  to.  His 
smile  was  truly  bland  —  I  don't  think  I  ever  see  a  blander 
one,  or  amiabler. 

I  guess  she  was  kinder  encouraged,  too,  for  she  begun 
real  sort  o'  cheerful  a  tellin'  what  she  come  for,  —  that  she 
wanted  him  to  rent  these  buildin's  for  some  other  purpose 
than  drinkin'  and  billiard  saloons. 

And  he  went  on  in  jest  as  cheerful  a  way,  almost  jokeu- 
ler,  to  tell  her  "  that  he  couldn't  do  any  thing  of  the  kind, 
and  he  was  doing  the  business  to  the  best  of  his  ability, 
and  he  couldn't  change  it  at  all." 

And  then  Cicely,  in  a  courteus,  reasonable  voice,  begun 
to  argue  with  him ;  told  him  jest  how  bad  she  felt  about 
it,  and  urged  him  to  grant  her  request. 

But  no,  the  pyramids  couldn't  be  no  more  sot  than  he 
wuz,  nor  not  half  so  polite. 

And  then  she  dropped  her  own  sufferin's  in  the  matter, 
and  argued  the  right  of  the  thing. 

She  said  when  she  was  married,  her  husband  took  the 
whole  of  her  property,  and  invested  it  for  her  in  these  very 
buildings.  And  in  reality,  it  was  her  own  property.  The 
most  of  her  husband's  wealth  was  in  the  mills  and  govern 
ment  bonds.  But  she  wanted  her  money  invested  here, 
because  she  wanted  a  larger  interest.  And  she  was  intend 
ing  to  let  the  interest  accumulate,  and  found  a  free  library, 
and  build  a  chapel,  for  the  workmen  at  the  mills. 

And  says  she,  "  Is  it  right  that  my  own  property  should 
be  used  for  what  I  consider  such  wicked  purposes  ?  " 

"  Wicked  ?  why,  my  dear  madam  !  it  brings  in  a  larger 
interest  than  any  other  investment  that  I  have  been  able 
to  make.  And  you  know  your  husband's  will  provides 


SWEET  CICELY.  331 

handsomely  for  you  —  the  yearly  allowance  is  very  hand 
some  indeed." 

"It  is  all  I  wish,  and  more  than  I  care  for.  I  am  not 
speaking  of  that." 

"Yes,  it  is  very  handsome  indeed.  And  by  the  time 
Paul  is  of  age,  in  the  way  I  am  managing  the  property 
now,  he  will  be  the  richest  young  man  in  this  section  of 
the  State.  The  revenue  of  which  you  make  complaints, 
will  be  of  itself  a  handsome  property,  a  large  patrimony." 

"It  will  seem  to  be  loaded  with  curses,  weighed  down 
with  the  weight  of  heavy  hearts,  broken  hearts,  ruined 
lives." 

"  All  imagination,  my  dear  madam  !  You  have  a  vivid 
imagination.  But  there  will  be  nothing  of  the  kind,  I 
assure  you,"  says  he,  with  a  patronizing  smile.  "  It  will 
all  be  invested  in  government  bonds,  —  good,  honest  dol 
lars,  with  nothing  more  haunting  than  the  American 
eagle  on  them." 

"Yes,  and  these  words,  'In  God  we  trust.'  But  do 
you  know,"  says  she,  with  the  red  spot  growin'  brighter 
on  her  cheek,  and  her  eyes  brighter,  — "  do  you  know, 
if  one  did  not  possess  great  faith,  they  would  be  apt 
to  doubt  the  existence  of  a  God,  who  can  allow  such 
injustice  ?  " 

"  What  injustice,  my  dear  madam  ? "  says  he,  smilin' 
blandly. 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Post,  just  how  my  husband  died :  you 
know  he  was  killed  by  intemperance.  A  drinking-saloon 
was  just  as  surely  the  cause  of  his  death,  as  the  sword  is, 
that  pierces  through  a  man's  heart.  Intemperance  was 
the  cause  of  his  crime.  He,  the  one  I  loved  better  than 


332  SWEET  CICELY. 

my  own  self,  infinitely  better,  was  made  a  murderer  by 
it.  I  have  lost  him,"  says  she,  a  thro  win'  out  her  arms 
with  a  wild  gesture  that  skairt  me.  "  I  have  lost  him  by 
it." 

And  her  eyes  looked  as  big  and  wild  and  wretched,  as 
if  she  was  lookin'  down  the  endless  ages  of  eternity,  a 
tryin'  to  find  her  love,  and  knew  she  couldn't.  All  this 
was  in  her  eyes,  in  her  voice.  But'  she  seemed  to  conquer 
her  emotion  by  a  mighty  effort,  tried  to  smother  it  down, 
and  speak  calmly  for  the  sake  of  her  boy. 

"  And  now,  after  I  have  suffered  by  it  as  I  have,  is  it 
right,  is  it  just,  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  allow  my 
property  to  be  used  to  make  other  women's  hearts,  other 
mothers'  hearts,  ache  as  mine  must  ache  forever  ?  " 

"  But,  my  dear  madam,  the  law,  as  it  is  now,  gives  me 
the  right  to  do  as  I  am  doing." 

"  I  am  pleading  for  justice,  right :  you  have  it  in  your 
power  to  grant  my  prayer.  Women  have  no  other  weapon 
they  can  use,  only  just  to  plead,  to  beg  for  mercy." 

"  O  my  dear  madam !  you  are  quite  wrong :  you  are 
entirely  wrong.  Women  are  the  real  rulers  of  the  world. 
They,  in  reality,  rule  us  men,  with  a  rod  of  iron.  Their 
dainty  white  hands,  their  rosy  smiles,  are  the  real  auto 
crats  of  —  of  the  breakfast-table,  and  of  life." 

You  see,  he  went  on,  as  men  use.d  to  went  on,  to  females 
years  ago.  He  forgot  that  that  Alorizo  and  Melissa  style 
of  talkin'  to  wimmen  had  almost  entirely  gone  out  of  fash 
ion.  And  it  was  a  good  deal  more  stylish  now  to  talk  to 
wimmen  as  if  they  wuz  human  bein's,  and  men  wuz  too. 

But  Cicely  looked  at  him  calm  and  earnest,  and  says,  — 

"  Will  you  do  as  I  wish  you  to  in  this  matter  ?  " 


SWEET  CICELY.  333 

"  Well,  really,  my  dear  madam,  I  don't  quite  get  at  your 
meaning." 

"  Will  you  let  this  store  remain  as  it  is,  and  rent  those 
other  saloons  to  honest  business  men  for  some  other  pur 
pose  than  drinking-saloons  ?  " 

"  O  my  dear,  dear  madam !  What  can  you  be  think 
ing  of?  The  rent  that  I  get  from  those  four  buildings  is 
equal  in  amount  to  any  eight  of  the  other  buildings  of 
the  same  size.  I  cannot,  I  cannot,  consent  to  make  any 
changes  whatever." 

"  You  will  not,  then,  do  as  I  wish  ?  " 

"  I  cannot,  my  clear  madam :  I  prefer  to  put  it  in  that 
way,  —  I  cannot.  I  do  not  see  as  you  do  in  the  matter. 
And  as  the  law  empowers  me  to  use  my  own  discretion 
in  renting  the  buildings,  investing  money,  etc.,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  do  so." 

Cicely  got  up :  she  was  white  as  snow  now,  but  as  quiet 
as  snow  ever  wus. 

Mr.  Post  got  up,  too,  about  the  politest  actin'  man  I 
ever  see,  a  movin'  chairs  out  of  the  way,  and  a  smilin', 
and  a  waitin'  on  us  out.  He  was  ready  to  give  plenty  of 
politeness  to  Cicely,  but  no  justice. 

And  I  guess  he  was  kinder  sorry  to  see  how  white  and 
sad  she  looked,  for  he  spoke  out  in  a  sort  of  a  comfortin' 
voice,  — 

"  You  have  had  great  sorrows,  Mrs.  Slide,  but  you  have 
also  a  great  deal  to  comfort  you.  Just  think  of  how  many 
other  widows  have  been  left  in  poverty,  or,  as  you  may 
say,  penury,  and  you  are  rich." 

Cicely  turned  then,  and  made  the  longest  speech  I  ever 
heard  her  make. 


334 


SWEET  CICELY. 


"  Yes,  many  a  drunkard's  wife  is  clothed  in  rags,  and 
goes  hungry  to  bed  at  night,  with  her  hungry  children  cry 
ing  for  bread  about  her.  She  can  lie  on  her  cold  pile  of 
rags,  with  the  snow  sifting  down  on  her,  and  think  that 


LICENSED    WRETCHEDNESS. 

her  husband,  a  sober,  honest  man  once,  was  made  a  low, 
brutal  wretch  by  intemperance ;  that  he  drank  up  all  his 
property,  killed  himself  by  strong  drink,  was  buried  in  a 
pauper's  grave,  and  left  a  starving  wife  and  children,  to 
live  if  they  could.  The  cold  of  winter  freezes  her,  the 
want  of  food  makes  her  faint,  and  to  see  her  little  ones 


SWEET  CICELY.  335 

starving  about  her  makes  her  heart  ache,  no  doubt.  I 
have  plenty  of  money,  fine  clothes,  dainty  food,  diamonds 
on  my  fingers." 

Says  she,  stretching  out  her  little  white  hands,  and 
smilin'  the  bitterest  smile  I  ever  see  on  Cicely's  face, — 

"  But  do  you  not  think,  that,  as  I  lie  on  my  warm,  soft 
couch  at  night,  my  heart  is  wrung  by  a  keener  pang 
than  that  drunkard's  wife  can  ever  know?  I  can  lie  and 
think  that  by  my  means,  my  wealth,  I  am  making  just 
such  homes  as  that,  making  just  such  broken  hearts,  just 
such  starving  children,  filling  just  such  paupers'  graves, — 
laying  up  a  long  store  of  curses  and  judgments,  for  my 
boy's  inheritance.  And  I  am  powerless  to  do  any  thing 
but  suffer." 

And  she  opened  the  door,  and  walked  right  out.  And  Mr. 
Post  stood  and  smiled  till  we  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

"  Good-afternoon,  #006?-afternoon,  my  dear  madam,  call 
again  ;  happy  to  see  you  —  6r00tZ-afternoon." 

Wall,  Cicely  went  right  to  bed  the  minute  we  got  home  ; 
and  she  never  eat  a  mite  of  supper,  only  drinked  a  cup  of 
tea,  and  thanked  me  so  pretty  for  bringin'  it  to  her. 

And  there  was  such  a  sad  and  helpless,  and  sort  of  a 
outraged,  look  in  her  pretty  brown  eyes,  some  as  a  noble 
animal  might  have,  who  wus  at  bay  with  the  cruel  hunters 
all  round  it.  And  so  I  told  Josiah  after  I  went  down-stairs. 

And  the  boy  overheard  me,  and  asked  me  87  questions 
about  "  a  animal  at  bay,"  and  what  kind  of  a  bay  it  was  — 
was  it  the  bay  to  a  barn  ?  or  on  the  water  ?  or  — 

Oh  my  land  !  my  land  !     How  I  did  suffer  ! 

But  Cicely  grew  worse  fast,  from  that  very  day.  She 
seemed  to  run  right  down. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

day  Cicely  had*  been  worryin'  dretfully  all  the  fore 
noon  about  the  boy.  And  I  declare,  it  seemed  so  pitiful  to 
hear  her  talk  and  forebode  about  him,  with  her  face  lookin' 
so  wan  and  white,  and  her  big  eyes  so  sorrowful  lookin', 
as  if  they  was  lookin'  onto  all  the  sadness  and  trouble  of 
the  world,  and  couldn't  help  herself  —  such  a  sort  of  a 
hopeless  look,  and  lovin'  and  broken-hearted,  that  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  stand  it  without  breakin'  right  down, 
and  cryin'  with  her. 

But  I  knew  her  state,  and  held  firm.  And  she  went 
over  all  the  old  grounds  agin  to  me,  that  she  had  fore 
boded  on ;  and  I  went  over  all  the  old  grounds  of  soothin', 
agin  and  agin. 

Why,  good  land !  I  had  had  practice  enough.  For 
every  day,  and  every  night,  would  she  forebode  and  fore 
bode,  and  I  would  soothe  and  soothe,  till  I  declare  for't,  I 
should  have  felt  (to  myself)  a  good  deal  like  a  bread-and- 
milk  poultice,  or  even  lobelia  or  catnip,  if  my  feelin's  on 
the  subject  hadn't  been  so  dretful  deep  and  solemn,  deeper 
.than  any  poultice  that  was  ever  made  —  and  solemner. 

Why,  Tirzah  Ann  says  to  me  one  day,  —  she  had  been 
settin'  with  Cicely  for  a  hour  or  two ;  and  she  come  out  a 
cryin',  and  says  she,  — 

336 


SWEET  CICELY.  337 

"Mother,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  stand  it.  It  would 
break  my  heart  to  see  Cicely's  broken-hearted  look,  and 
hear  her  talk  for  half  a  day ;  and  you  have  to  hear  her  all 
the  time."  And  she  wiped  her  eyes. 

And  I  says,  "  Tongue  can't  tell,  Tirzah  Ann,  how  your 
ma's  heart  does  ache  for  her.  And,"  says  I,  "  if  I  knew 
myself,  I  had  got  to  die  and  leave  a  boy  in  the  world  with 
such  temptations  round  him,  and  such  a  chin  on  him,  why, 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  do,  and  what  I  shouldn't  do." 

And  says  Tirzah  Ann,  "That  is  jest  the  way  I  feel, 
mother ; "  and  we  both  of  us  wiped  our  eyes. 

But  I  held  firm  before  her,  and  reminded  her  every  time, 
of  what  she  knew  already,  —  "that  there  was  One  who 
was  strong,  who  comforted  her  in  her  hour  of  need,  and 
He  would  watch  over  the  boy." 

And  sometimes  she  would  be  soothed  for  a  little  while, 
and  sometimes  she  wouldn't. 

Wall,  this  day,  as  I  said,  she  had  worried  and  worried 
and  worried.  And  at  last  I  had  soothed  her  down,  real 
soothed.  And  she  asked  me  before  I  went  down-stairs,  for 
a  poem,  a  favorite  one  of  hers,  —  "  The  Celestial  Country." 
And  I  gin  it  to  her.  And  she  said  I  might  shet  the  door, 
and  she  would  read  a  spell,  and  she  guessed  she  should 
drop  to  sleep. 

And  as  I  was  goiri'  out  of  the  room,  she  called  me  back 
to  hear  a  verse  or  two  she  particularly  liked,  about  the 
"  endless,  ageless  peace  of  Syon  :  " 

"  True  vision  of  true  beauty, 
Sweet  cure  of  all  distrest." 

And  I  stood  calm,  and  heard  her  with  a  smooth,  placid 


338 


SWEET  CICELY. 


face,  though  I  knew  my  pies  was  a  scorchin'  in  the  oven, 
for  I  smelt  'em.     I  did  well  by  Cicely. 

After  she  finished  it,  I  told  her  it  was  perfectly  beautiful, 
and  I  left  her  feelin'  quite  bright ;  and  there  wuzn't  but 


SAMANTHA   LISTENING   TO. CICELY. 

one  of  my  pies  spilte,  and  I  didn't  care  if  it  wuz.    I  wuzn't 
goin'  to  have  her  feelin's  hurt,  pies  or  no  pies. 

After  I  got  my  pies  out,  I  went  into  my  nearest  neigh 
bor's  on  a  errent,  tellin'  Josiah  to  stay  in  Thomas  Jeffer 
son's  room,  just  acrost  from  Cicely's,  so's  if  she  wanted 
any  thing,  he  could  get  it  for  her.  I  wuzn't  gone  over  a 
hour,  and,  when  I  went  back,  I  went  up-stairs  the  first 
thing;  and  I  found  Cicely  a  cry  in,'  though  there  was  a 


SWEET  CICELY.  339 

softer,  more  contented  look  in  her  eyes  than  I  had  seen 
there  for  a  long  time. 

And  I  says,  "  What  is  the  matter,  Cicely?" 

And  she  says,  — 

"  Oh  !  if  I  had  been  a  better  woman,  I  could  have  seen 
my  mother  !  she  has  been  here  !  " 

"Why,  Cicely!"  says  I.  "Here,  take  some  of  this 
jell." 

But  she  put  it  away,  and  says  in  a  sort  of  a  solemn, 
happy  tone,  — 

"  She  has  been  here  !  " 

She  said  it  jest  as  earnest  and  serene  as  I  ever  heard 
any  thing  said ;  and  there  was  a  look  in  her  eyes  some  as 
there  wuz  when  she  come  home  from  her  aunt  Mary's,  and 
told  me  "  she  almost  wished  her  aunt  had  died  while  she 
was  there,  because  she  felt  that  her  mother  would  be  the 
angel  sent  from  heaven  to  convey  her  aunt's  soul  home  — 
and  she  could  have  seen  her." 

There  was  that  same  sort  of  deep,  soulful,  sad,  and  yet 
happy  look  to  her  eyes,  as  she  repeated,  — 

"  She  has  been  here  !  I  was  lying  here,  aunt  Samantha, 
reading  ;  The  Celestial  Country,'  not  thinking  of  any  thing 
but  my  book,  when  suddenly  I  felt  something  fanning  my 
forehead,  like  a  wing  passing  gently  over  my  face.  And 
then  something  said  to  me  just  as  plain  as  I  am  speaking 
to  you,  only,  instead  of  being  spoken  aloud,  it  was  said  to 
my  soul,  — 

"'You  have  wanted  to  see  your  mother:  she  is  here 
with  you.' 

"And  I  dropped  my  book,  and  sprung  up,  and  stood 
trembling,  and  reached  out  my  hands,  and  cried,  — 


340  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  '  Mother !  mother  !  where  are  you  ?  Oh  !  how  I  have 
wanted  you,  mother  ! ' 

"  Ancl  then  that  same  voice  said  to  my  heart  again,  — 

" '  God  will  take  care  of  the  boy.' 

"  And  as  I  stood  there  trembling,  the  room  seemed  full. 
You  know  how  you  would  feel  if  your  eyes  were  shut,  and 
you  were  placed  in  a  room  full  of  people.  You  would 
know  they  were  there  —  you  would  feel  their  presence, 
though  you  couldn't  see  them.  You  know  what  the  Bible 
says,  — 4  Seeing  we  are  encompassed  abou't  by  so  great  a 
cloud  of  witnesses.'  That  word  just  describes  what  I 
felt.  There  seemed  to  be  all  about  me,  a  great  cloud  of 
people.  And  I  put  my  arms  out,  and  made  a  rush  through 
them,  as  you  would  through  a  dense  crowd,  and  said 
again,— 

"  '  Mother !  mother  !  where  are  you  ?  Speak  to  me 
again.' 

"  And  then,  suddenly,  there  seemed  to  be  a  stir,  a  move 
ment  in  the  room,  something  I  was  conscious  of  with  some 
finer,  more  vivid  sense  than  hearing.  It  seemed  to  be  a 
great  crowd  moving,  receding.  And  farther  off,  but  clear, 
these  words  came  to  me  again,  sweet  and  solemn,  — 

"  '  God  will  take  care  of  the  boy.' 

"  And  then  I  seemed  to  be  alone.  And  I  went  out  into 
the  hall ;  and  uncle  Josiah  heard  me,  and  he  came  out, 
and  asked  me  what  the  matter  was. 

"And  I  told  him  'I  didn't  knoAV.'  And  my  strength 
left  me  then  ;  and  he  took  me  up  in  his  arms,  and  brought 
me  back  into  my  room,  and  laid  me  on  the  lounge,  and 
gave  me  some  wine,  and  I  couldn't  help  crying." 

"What  for,  dear?"  says  I. 


SWEET  CICELY.  341 

"  Because  I  wasn't  good  enough  to  see  my  mother.  If 
I  had  only  been  good  enough,  I  could  have  seen  her.  For 
she  was  here,  aunt  Samantha,  right  in  this  room." 

Her  eyes  wus  so  big  and  solemn  and  earnest,  that  I 
knew  she  meant  what  she  said.  But  I  soothed  her  down 
as  well  as  I  could,  and  I  says,  — 

"  Mebby  you  had  dropped  to  sleep,  Cicely :  mebby  you 
dremp  it." 

"  Yes,"  says  Josiah,  who  had  come  in,  and  heard  my  last 
words. 

"  Yes,  Cicely,  you  dremp  it." 

Wall,  after  a  while  Cicely  stopped  cryin',  and  dropped 
to  sleep. 

And  now  what  I  am  goin'  to  tell  you  is  the  truth.  You 
can. believe  it,  or  not,  jest  as  you  are  a  mind  to ;  but  it  is 
the  truth. 

That  night,  at  sundown,  Thomas  J.  come  in  with  a 
telegram  for  Cicely;  and  she  says,  without  actin'  a  mite 
surprised,  — 

"  Aunt  Mary  is  dead." 

And  sure  enough,  when  she  opened  it,  it  was  so.  She 
died  jest  before  the  time  Cicely  come  out  into  the  hall. 
Josiah  remembered  plain.  The  clock  had  jest  struck  two 
as  she  opened  the  door. 

Her  aunt  died  at  two. 

This  is  the  plain  truth ;  and  I  will  make  oath  to  it,  and 
so  will  Josiah.  And  whether  Cicely  dremp  it,  or  whether 
she  didn't ;  whether  it  wus  jest  a  coincidin'  coincidence, 
her  havin'  these  feelin's  at  exactly  the  time  her  aunt  died, 
or  not,  —  I  don't  know  any  more  than  you  do.  I  jest  put 
down  the  facts,  and  you  can  draw  your  own  inferences 


342 


SWEET  CICELY. 


from  'em,  and  draw  'em  jest  as  fur  as  you  want  to,  and  as 
many  of  'em. 

But.  that  night,  way  along  in  the  night,  as  I  lay  awake 
a  musin'  on  it,  and  a  wonderin',  —  for  I  say  plain  that  my 
specks  hain't  strong  enough  to  see  through  the  mysteries 


THOMAS   JEFFEliSON   BKINGING   CICELY'S   TELEGEAM. 

that  wrap  us  round  on  every  side,  —  I  s'posed  my  compan 
ion  wus  asleep ;  but  he  spoke  out  sudden  like,  and  decided, 
as  if  I  had  been  a  disputin'  of  him,  — 

"  Yes,  most  probable  she  dremp  it." 

"  Wall,"  says  I,  "  I  hain't  disputed  you." 

"  Hain't  you  a  goin'  to  ?  "  says  he. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


343 


"No,"  says  I.  And  that  seemed  to  quiet  him  down, 
and  he  went  to  sleep. 

And  I  give  up,  that  most  probable  she  did,  or  didn't, 
one  of  the  two. 


MOST   PROBABLE    SHE   DREMP   IT." 


But  anyway,  from  that  night,  she  didn't  worry  one  bit 
about  the  boy. 

She  would  talk  to  him  sights  about  his  bein'  a  good 
boy,  but  she  would  act  and  talk  as  if  she  was  sure  he 


344  SWEET  CICELY. 

would.  She  would  look  at  him,  not  with  the  old,  pitiful, 
agonized  look,  but  with  a  sweet  and  happy  light  in  her 
eyes. 

And  I  guessed  that  she  thought  that  the  laws  would  be 
changed  before  the  boy  was  of  age.  I  thought  that  she 
felt  real  encouraged  to  think  the  march  of  civilization, 
was  a  marchin'  on,  pretty  slow  but  sure,  and,  before  the 
boy  got  old  enough  to  go  out  into  a  world  full  of  tempta 
tions,  there  would  be  wiser  laws,  purer  influences,  to  help 
the  boy  to  be  a  good  and  noble  man,  which  is  about  the 
best  thing  we  know  of,  here  below. 

No,  she  never  worried  one  worry  about  him  after  that 
day,  not  a  single  worry.  But  she  made  her  will,  and  it 
was  fixed  lawful  too.  She  wanted  Paul  to  stay  with  us 
till  he  was  old  enough  to  send  off  to  school  and  college. 
And  she  wanted  her  property  and  Paul's  too,  if  he  should 
die  before  he  was  of  age,  should  be  used  to  found  a  school, 
and  a  home  for  the  children  of  drunkards.  A  good  school 
and  a  Christian  home,  to  teach  them  and  help  them  to  be 
good,  and  good  citizens. 

Josiah  Allen  and  Thomas  J.  and  I  was  appinted  to  see 
to  it,  appinted  by  law.  It  was  to  be  right  in  them  build 
ings  that  wus  used  now  for  dram-shops  :  them  very  housen 
was  to  be  used  to  send  out  good  influences  and  spirits  into 
the  world  instead  of  the  vile,  murderous,  brutal  spirits, 
they  wus  sendin'  out  now. 

And  wuzn't  it  sort  o'  pitiful  to  think  on,  that  Cicely  had 
to  die  before  her  property  could  be  used  as  she  wanted  it 
to  be,  —  could  be  used  to  send  out  blessings  into  the 
world,  instead  of  cursings  and  wickedness,  as  it  was  now  ? 
It  was  pitiful  to  look  on  it  with  the  eye  of  a  woman ;  but 


SWEET  CICELY.  345 

I  kep'  still,  and  tried  to  look  on  it  with  the  eye  of  the 
United  States,  and  held  firm. 

And  we  give  her  our  solemn  promises,  that  in  case  the 
job  fell  to  us  to  do,  it  should  be  tended  to,  to  the  very  best 
of  our  three  abilities.  Thomas  J.,  bein'  a  good  lawyer, 
could  be  relied  on. 

The  executor  consented  to  it,  —  I  s'pose  because  he 
was  so  dretful  polite,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  a  com 
fort  to  Cicely.  He  knew  there  wuzn't  much  danger  of  its 
ever  takin'  place,  for  Paul  was  a  healthy  child.  And  his 
appetite  was  perfectly  startlin'  to  any  one  who  never  see 
a  child's  appetite. 

I  estimated,  and  estimated  calmly,  that  there  wuzn't  a 
hour  of  the  day  that  he  couldn't  eat  a  good,  hearty  meal. 
But  truly,  it  needed  a  strong  diet  to  keep  up  his  strength. 
For  oh  !  oh  !  the  questions  that  child  would  ask  !  He 
would  get  me  and  Philury  pantin'  for  breath  in  the  house, 
and  then  go  out  with  calmness  and  strength  to  fatigue  his 
uncle  Josiah  and  Ury  nearly  unto  death. 

But  they  loved  him,  and  so  did  I,  with  a  deep,  pantin', 
tired-out  affection.  We  loved  him  better  and  better  as  the 
days  rolled  by :  the  tireder  we  got  with  him  seemin'ly,  the 
more  we  loved  him. 

But  one  hope  that  had  boyed  me  up  durin'  the  first 
weeks  of  my  intercourse  with  him,  died  out.  I  did  think, 
that,  in  the  course  of  time,  he  would  get  all  asked  out. 
There  wouldn't  be  a  thing  more  in  heavens  or  on  earth,  or 
under  the  earth,  that  he  hadn't  enquired  in  perticular 
about. 

But  as  days  passed  by,  I  see  the  fallicy  of  my  hopes. 
Tiisperation  seemed  to  come  to  him ;  questions  would 


346 


SWEET  CICELY. 


spring  up  spontanious  in  his  mind ;  the  more  he  asked,  the 

more  spontaniouser  they  seemed  to  spring. 

Now,  for  instance,  one  evenin'  he  asked  me  about  3,000 

questions  about  the  Atlantic 
Ocian,  its  whales  and  sharks 
and  tides  and  steamships 
and  islands  and  pirates  and 
cable  and  sailors  and  coral 
and  salt,  and  etc.,  etc.,  and 


THE   BOY   ASKING   QUESTIONS. 


etcetery  ;  and  after  a  hour 

or  two  he  couldn't  think 

of  another  thing  to  ask, 

seemin'ly.     And  I  begun 

to   get    real    encouraged, 

though  fagged  to  the  very 

outmost  limit  of  fag,  when 

he  drew  a  long  breath,  and  says  with  a  perfectly  fresh, 

vigorous  look,  — 

"  Now  less  begin  on  the  Pacific." 
And  I  answered  kindly,  but  with  firmness,  — 
"  I  can't  tackle  any  more  ocians  to-night,  I  am  too  tuck 
ered  out." 


SWEET  CICELY.  847 

"  Well,"  says  he,  glancin'  out  of  the  window  at  the  new 
moon  which  hung  like  a  slender  golden  bow  in  the  west, 
"  don't  you  think  the  moon  to-night  is  shaped  some  like  a 
hammock  ?  and  if  I  set  down  in  it  with  my  feet  hanging 
out,  would  I  "be  dizzy  ?  and  if  I  should  curl  my  feet  up, 
and  lay  back  in  it,  and  sail  —  and  sail  —  and  sail  up  into 
the  sky,  could  I  find  out  about  things  up  in  the  heavens? 
Could  I  find  the  One  up  there  that  set  me  to  breathing? 
And  who  made  the  One  that  made  me  ?  And  where  was 
I  before  I  was  made?  —  and  uncle  Josiah  and  Ury  ?  And 
why  wouldn't  I  tell  him  where  we  was  before  we  was  any 
where?  and  if  we  wasn't  anywhere,  did  I  suppose  we 
would  want  to  be  somewhere  ?  and  say  —  SAY  "  — 

Oh,  dear  me  !  dear  me  !  how  I  did  suffer  ! 

But  a  better  child  never  lived  than  he  was,  and  I  would 
have  loved  to  seen  anybody  dispute  it.  He  was  a  lovely 
child,  and  very  deep. 

And  he  would  back  up  to  you,  and  get  up  into  your  lap, 
with  such  a  calm,  assured  air  of  owning  you,  as  if  you  was 
his  possession  by  right  of  discovery.  And  he  would  look 
up  into  your  face  with  such  a  trustin',  angelic  look  as  he 
tackled  you,  that,  no  matter  how  tuckered  out  you  would 
get,  you  was  jest  as  ready  for  him  the  next  time,  jest  as 
ready  to  be  tackled  and  tuckered. 

He  was  up  with  his  mother  a  good  deal.  He  would  get 
up  on  the  bed,  and  lay  by  her  side  ;  and  she  would  hold 
him  close,  and  talk  good  to  him,  dretful  good. 

I  heard  her  tellin'  him  one  day,  that,  "  if  ever  he  had  a 
man's  influence  and  strength,  he  must  use  them  wisely,  and 
deal  tenderly  and  gently  by  those  who  were  weaker,  and 
in  his  power.  That  a  manly  man  was  never  ashamed  of 


348  SWEET  CICELY. 

doing  what  was  right,  no  matter  how  many  opposed  him ; 
that  it  was  manly  and  noble  to  be  pure  and  good,  and 
helpful  to  all  who  needed  help. 

"And  he  must  remember,  if  he  ever  got  tired  out  and 
discouraged  trying  to  be  good  himself,  and  helping  others 
to  be  good,  that  he  was  never  alone,  that  his  loving  Father 
would  always  be  with  him,  and  she  should.  She  should 
never  be  far  away  from  her  boy. 

"  And  it  would  only  be  a  little  while  at  the  longest, 
before  she  should  take  him  in  her  arms  again,  before  life 
here  would  end,  and  the  new  and  glorious  life  begin,  that 
he  must  fit  himself  for.  That  life  here  was  so  short  that 
it  wasn't  worth  while  to  spend  any  part  of  it  in  less  worthy 
work  than  in  loving  and  serving  with  all  his  strength  God 
and  man." 

And  I  thought  as  I  listened  to  her,  that  her  talk  had  the 
simplicity  of  a  child,  and  the  wisdom  of  all  the  philosi- 
phers. 

Yes,  she  would  talk  to  him  dretful  good,  a  holdin'  him 
close  in  her  arms,  and  lookin'  on  him  with  that  fur-off, 
happy  look  in  her  eyes,  that  I  loved  and  hated  to  see,  — 
loved  to  see  because  it  was  so  beautiful  and  sweet,  hated 
to  see  because  it  seemed  to  set  her  so  fur  apart  from  all  of 
us. 

It  seemed  as  though,  while  her  body  was  here  below, 
she  herself  was  a  livin'  in  another  world  than  ourn :  you 
could  see  its  bright  radience  in  her  eyes,  hear  its  sweet 
and  peaceful  echoes  in  her  voice. 

She  was  with  us,  and  she  wuzn't  with  us ;  and  I'd  smile 
and  cry  about  it,  and  cry  and  smile,  and  couldn't  help  it, 
and  didn't  want  to. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


349 


And  seem'  her  so  satisfied  about  the  boy  —  why,  seein' 
her  feel  so  good  about  him,  made  us  feel  good  too.  And 
seein'  her  so  contented  and  happy,  made  us  contented  and 
happy  —  some. 

And  so  the  peaceful  weeks  went  by,  Cicely  growin' 
weaker  and  weaker  all  the  time  in  body,  but  happier  and 
happier  in  her  mind ;  so  sweet  and  serene,  that  we  all  felt, 
that,  instead  of  being  sad,  it  was  somethin'  beautiful  to 
die. 

And  as  the  long,  sweet  days  passed  by,  the  look  in  her 


TIEZAH   ANN   AND   MAGGIE   IN   THE   DEMOCRAT. 

eyes  grew  clearer,  —  the  look  that  reminded  us  of  the  sum 
mer  skies  in  early  mornin',  soft  and  dark,  with  a  prophecy 
in  them  of  the  coming  brightness  and  glory  of  the  full 
day. 

The  mornin'  of  the  last  day  in  June  Cicely  was  not  so 
well ;  and  I  sent  for  the  doctor  in  the  mornin',  and  told 
Ury  to  have  Tirzah  Ann  and  Maggie  come  home  and  spend 
the  day.  Which  they  did. 

And  in  the  afternoon  she  grew  worse  so  fast,  that 
towards  night  I  sent  for  the  doctor  again. 

He  didn't  give  any  hope,  and  said  the  end  was  very  near. 


350  SWEET   CICELY. 

A  little  before  night  the  boys  come,  —  Thomas  Jefferson 
and  Whitfield. 

The  sun  went  down ;  and  it  was  a  clear,  beautiful 
evenin',  though  there  was  no  moon.  All  was  still  in  the 
house :  the  lamp  was  lighted,  but  the  doors  and  windows 
was  open,  and  the  smell  of  the  blossoms  outside  come  in 
sweet ;  and  every  thing  seemed  so  peacful  and  calm,  that 
we  could  not  feel  sorrowful,  much  as  we  loved  her. 

She  had  wanted  the  boy  on  the  bed  with  her ;  and  I 
told  Josiah  and  the  children  we  would  go  out,  and  leave 
her  alone  with  him.  Only,  the  doctor  sot  by  the  window, 
with  the  lamp  on  a  little  stand  by  the  side  of  him,  and  the 
mornin'-glories  hangin'  their  clusters  down  between  him 
and  the  sweet,  still  night  outside. 

Cicely's  voice  was  very  low  and  faint;  but  wTe  could 
hear  her  talkin'  to  him,  good,  I  know,  though  I  didn't  hear 
her  words.  At  last  it  was  all  still,  and  we  heard  the  doc 
tor  go  to  the  bedside  ;  and  we  all  went  in,  —  Josiah  and  the 
children  and  me.  And  as  we  stood  there,  a  light  fell  on 
Cicely's  "face, — -everyone  in  the  room  saw  it,  —  a  white, 
pure  light,  like  no  other  light  on  earth,  unless  it  was  some 
thing  like  that  wonderful  new  light  —  that  has  a  soul.  It 
was  something  like  that  clear  white  light,  falling  through 
a  soft  shade.  It  was  jest  as  plainly  visible  to  us  as  the 
lamplight  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

It  rested  there  on  her  sweet  face,  on  her  wide-open  brown 
eyes,  on  her  smilin'  lips.  She  lay  there,  rapt,  illumined, 
glorified,  apart  from  us  all.  For  that  strange,  beautiful 
glow  on  her  face  wrapped  her  about,  separated  her  from 
us  all,  who  stood  outside. 

The  boy  had  fallen  asleep,  his  dimpled  arms  around  her 


SWEET  CICELY, 


351 


neck,  and  his  moist,  rosy  face  against  her  white  one.  She 
held  him  there  close  to  her  heart;  but  in  the  awe,  the 
wonder  of  what  we  saw,  we  hardly  noticed  the  boy. 

She  heard  voices  we  could  not  hear,  for  she  answered 
them  in  low  tones,  —  contented,  happy  tones.  She  saw 
faces  we  couldn't  see,  for  she  looked  at  them  with  won- 


DEATH   OF   CICELY. 


derin'  rapture  in  her  eyes.  She  was  away  from  us,  fur 
away  from  us  who  loved  her,  —  we  who  were  on  this  earth 
still.  Love  still  held  her  here,  human  love  yet  held  her 
by  a  slight  link  to  the  human  ;  but  her  sweet  soul  had  got 
with  its  true  kindred,  the  pure  in  heart. 

But  still  her  arms  was  round  the  boy,  —  white,  soft  arms 
of  flesh,  that  held  him  close  to  her  heart.    And  at  the  very 


352  SWEET  CICELY. 

last,  she  fixed  her  eyes  on  him  ;  and,  oh  !  what  a  look  that 
was,  —  a  look  of  such  full  peace,  and  rapturous  content, 
as  if  she  knew  all,  and  was  satisfied  with  all  that  should 
happen  to  him.  As  if  her  care  for  him,  her  love  for  him, 
had  blossomed,  and  bore  the  ripe  fruit  of  blessedness. 

At  last  that  beautiful  light  grew  dimmer,  and  more  dim, 
till  it  was  gone  —  gone  with  the  pure  soul  of  our  sweet 
Cicely. 

That  night,  way  along  in  the  night,  I  wuzn't  sleeping, 
and  I  wuzri't  crying,  though  I  had  loved  Cicely  so  well. 
No :  I  felt  lifted  up  in  my  mind,  inspired,  as  if  I  had  seen 
somethin'  so  beautiful  that  I  could  never  forget  it.  I  felt 
perhaps  somethin'  as  our  old  4  mothers  did  when  they 
would  see  an  angel  standin'  with  furled  wings  outside  their 
tents. 

I  thought  Josiah  was  asleep ;  but  it  seems  he  wuzn't,  for 
he  spoke  out  sort  o'  decided  like,  — 

"  Most  probable  it  was  the  lamp." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IT  was  a  lovely  mornin'  about  three  weeks  after  Cicely's 
death.  Josiah  had  to  go  to  Jonesville  to  mill,  and  the  boy 
wanted  to  go  to ;  and  so  I  put  on  his  little  cloak  and  hat, 
and  told  him  he  might  go. 

We  didn't  act  cast  down  and  gloomy  before  the  boy, 
Josiah  and  me  didn't.  He  had  worried  for  his  ma  dret- 
fully,  at  first.  But  we  had  made  every  thing  of  him,  and 
petted  him.  And  I  had  told  him  that  she  had  gone  to  a 
lovely  place,  and  was  there  a  waitin'  for  him.  And  I 
would  say  it  to  him  with  as  cheerful  a  face  as  I  could. 
(I  knew  I  could  do  my  own  cry  in',  out  to  one  side.) 

And  he  believed  me.  He  believed  every  word  I  said  to 
him.  And  he  would  ask  me  sights  and  sights  of  questions 
about  "  the  place" 

And  "if  it  was  inside  the  gate,  that  uncle  Josiah  had 
read  about,  —  that  gate  that  was  big  and  white,  like  a 
pearl  ?  And  if  it  would  float  down  through  the  sky  some 
day,  and  stand  still  in  front  of  him  ?  And  would  the  gate 
swing  open  so  he  could  see  into  the  City  ?  and  would  it 
be  all  glorious  with  golden  streets,  and  shining,  and  full 
of  light  ?  And  would  his  mamma  Cicely  stand  just  inside, 
and  reach  out  her  arms  to  him?  —  those  pretty  white  arms." 

353 


354  SWEET  CICELY. 

And  then  the  boy  would  sob  and  cry.  And  I'd  soothe 
him,  and  swaller  hard,  and  say  "  Yes,"  and  didn't  think  it 
was  wicked,  when  he  would  be  a  sobbin'  so. 

And  then  he'd  ask,  "  Would  she  take  him  in  her  arms, 
and  be  glad  to  see  her  own  little  boy  again  ?  And  would 
he  have  long  to  wait?" 

And  I'd  comfort  him,  and  tell  him,  "  No,  it  wouldn't  be 
but  a  little  time  to  wait." 

And  didn't  think  it  was  wicked,  for  it  wuzn't  long 
anyway.  For  "our  days  are  but  shadows  that  flee 
away." 

Wall,  he  loved  us,  some.  .And  we  loved  him,  and  did 
well  by  him ;  and  bein'  a  child,  we  could  sometimes  com 
fort  him  with  childish  things. 

And  this  mornin'  he  wus  all  excitement  about  goin'  to 
Jonesville  with  his  uncle  Josiah.  And  I  gin  him  some 
pennys  to  get  some  oranges  for  him  and  the  babe,  and 
they  set  off  feelin'  quite  chirk. 

And  I  sot  doAvn  to  mend  a  vest  for  my  Josiah.  And  I 
was  a  settin'  there  a  mendin'  it,  —  one  of  the  pockets  had 
gin  out,  and  it  was  frayed  round  the  edges. 

And  I  sot  there  a  sewin'  on  that  fray,  peaceful  and  calm 
and  serene  as  the  outside  of  the  vest,  which  was  farmer's 
satin,  and  very  smooth  and  shinin'.  The  weather  also 
wus  as  mild  and  serene  as  the  vest,  if  not  serener.  I  had 
got  my  work  all  done  up  as  slick  as  a  pin :  the  floor 
glittered  like  yellow  glass,  the  stove  shone  a  agreable 
black,  a  good  dinner  was  a  cookin'.  And  I  sot  there, 
happy,  as  I  say;  for  though,  when  I  had  done  so  much 
work  that  mornin',  if  that  vest  had  belonged  to  anybody 
else,  it  would  have  looked  like  a  stent  to  me,  I  didn't 


SWEET  CICELY.  855 

mind  it,  for  it  was  for  my  Josiah :  and  love  makes  labor 
light,  —  light  as  day. 

I  was  jest  a  thinkin'  this,  and  a  thinkin'  that  though  I 
had  jest  told  Josiah,  from  a  sense  of  duty,  that  "  he  had 
broke  that  pocket  down  by  luggin'  round  so  much  stuff 
in  it,  and  there  was  no  sense  in  actin'  as  if  he  could 
carry  round  a  hull  car-load  of  things  in  his  vest-pocket ; " 
though  I  had  spoken  to  him  thus,  from  a  sense  of  duty, 
try  in'  to  keep  him  straight  and  upright  in  his  demeaner, — 
still,  I  was  a  thinkin'  how  pleasant  it  wuz  to  work  for  them 
you  loved,  and  that  loved  you  :  for  though  he  had  snapped 
me  up  considerable  snappish,  and  said  "he  should  carry 
round  in  his  pockets  as  much  as  he  was  a  minter ;  and  if 
I  didn't  want  to  mend  it,  I  could  let  it  alone,"  and  had 
thro  wed  it  down  in  the  corner,  and  slammed  the  door  con 
siderable  hard  when  he  went  out,  still,  I  knew  that  this 
slight  pettishness  was  only  the  light  bubbles  that  rises 
above  the  sparkling  wine.  I  knew  his  love  for  me  lay 
pure  and  clear  and  sparklin'  in  the  very  depths  of  his 
soul. 

I  was  a  settin'  there,  thinkin'  about  it,  and  thinkin'  how 
true  love,  such  as  mine  and  hisen,  glorified  a  earthly  ex 
istence,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  heard  a  rap  come  onto  the 
kitchen  door  right  behind  me ;  and  I  says,  "  Come  in.'' 
And  a  tall,  slim  feller  entered,  with  light  hair,  and  sort  o' 
thin,  and  a  patient,  determined  countenance  onto  him. 
A  sort  of  a  persistent  look  to  him,  as  if  he  wuzn't  one  to 
be  turned  round  by  trifles.  I  didn't  dislike  his  looks  a 
mite  at  first,  and  sot  him  a  chair. 

But  little  did  I  think  what  was  a  comin'.  For,  if  you 
will  believe  it,  he  hadn't  much  more  than  got  sot  down 


356  SWEET  CICELY. 

when  he  says  to  me  right  there,  in  the  middle  of  the  fore 
noon,  and  right  to  my  face,  —  the  mean,  miserable,  low 
lived  scamp,  —  says  he,  right  there,  in  broad  daylight,  and 
without  blushing,  or  any  thing,  says  he,  — 

"  I  called  this  morning,  mom,  to  see  if  I  couldn't  sell 
you  a  feller." 

"  Sell  me  a  feller ! "  T  jest  made  out  to  say,  for  I  wus 
fairly  paralyzed  by  his  impudence.  "  Sell  me  a  feller  ! " 

"  Yes :  I  have  got  some  of  the  best  kinds  they  make, 
and  I  didn't  know  but  I  could  sell  you  one." 

Sez  I,  gettin'  my  tongue  back,  "  Buy  a  feller !  you  ?,sk 
me,  at  my  age,  and  with  my  respectability,  and  after  carry- 
in'  round  such  principles  as  I  have  been  carryin'  round  for 
years  and  years,  you.  ask  me  to  buy  a  feller  ! " 

"  Yes  :  I  didn't  know  but  you  would  want  one.  I  have 
got  the  best  kind  there  is  made." 

"  I'll  let  you  know,  young  man,"  says  I,  "  I  '11  let  you 
know  that  I  have  got  a  feller  of  my  own,  as  good  a  one  as 
was  ever  made,  one  I  have  had  for  20  years  and  over." 

"  Wall,  mom,"  says  he,  with  that  stiddy,  determined 
way  of  hisen,  "a  feller  that  you  have  had  for  20  years 
must  be  out  of  gear  by  this  time." 

"  Out  of  gear  !  "  says  I,  speakin'  up  sharp.  "  You  will 
be  out  of  gear  yourself,  young  man,  if  I  hear  any  more 
such  talk  out  of  your  head." 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me,  mom,"  says  he,  in  that  pa 
tient  way  of  hisen.  "  It  hain't  my  way  to  run  down  any 
body's  else's  fellers." 

"Wall,  I  guess  you  hadn't  better  try  it  again  in  this 
house,"  says  I  warmly.  "  I  guess  it  won't  be  very  healthy 
for  you." 


AGENT   TRYING    TO    SELL    SAMANTHA   A   FELLER. 


358  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  Can't  I  sell  you  some  other  attachment,  mom  ?  I  have 
got  'em  of  all  kinds." 

"  Sell  me  another  attachment  ?  No,  sir.  You  cant  sell 
me  another  attachment.  My  attachment  is  as  firm  and 
endurin'  as  the  rocks,  and  has  always  been,  and  is  one  not 
to  be  bought  and  sold." 

" 1  presume  yours  was  good  in  the  day  of  'em,  mom,  but 
they  must  be  old-fashioned.  I  have  the  very  best  and 
newest  attachments  of  all  kinds.  But  I  make  a  specialty 
of  my  fellers.  You'd  better  let  me  sell  you  a  feller,  mom." 

I  declare  for't,  my  first  thought  was,  to  turn  him  right 
outdoors,  and  shet  the  door  in  his  face.  And  then  agin, 
I  thought,  I  am  a  member  of  the  meetin'-house.  I  must  be 
patient  and  long  suffering  and  may  be  here  is  a  chance  for 
me  to  do  good.  Thinks'es  I,  if  I  was  ever  eloquent  in  a 
good  cause,  I  must  be  now.  I  must  convince  him  of  the 
iief ariousn ess  of  his  conduct.  And  if  soarin'  in  eloquence 
can  do  it,  why,  I  must  soar.  And  so  I  begun. 

Says  I,  wavin'  my  right  hand  in  a  broad,  soarin',  elo 
quent  wave,  "Young  man,  when  you  talk  about  buyin' 
and  sellin'  a  feller,  you  are  talkin'  on  a  solemn  subject,  — 
buyin'  and  sellin'  attachments  !  Buyin'  and  sellin'  fellers  ! 
It  hain't  no  thin'  new  to  me.  I've  hearn  tell  of  such  things, 
but  little  did  I  suppose  it  was  a  subject  I  should  ever  be 
tackled  on. 

"  But  I  have  hearn  of  it.  I  have  hearn  of  wimmen  sell- 
in'  themselves  to  the  highest  bidder,  with  a  minister  for 
auctioneer  and  salesman.  I  have  hearn  of  fathers  and 
mothers  sellin'  beauty  and  innocence  and  youth  to  wicked 
old  age  for  money  —  sellin'  'em  right  in  the  meetin'-house, 
under  the  very  shadow  of  the  steeple. 


SWEET  CICELY. 


359 


THEM   THAT    SELL   DOVES. 


"  Jerusalem  hain't  the  only  village  where  God's  holy 
temple  has  been  polluted  by  money-changers  and  them 
that  sell  doves.  Many  a  sweet  little  dove  of  a  girl  is  made 


360  SWEET  CICELY. 

by  her  father  and  mother,  and  other  old  money-changers, 
to  walk  up  to  God's  holy  altar,  and  swear  to  a  lie.  They 
think  her  tellin'  that  lie,  makes  the  infamous  bargain  more 
sacred,  makes  the  infamous  life  they  have  drove  her  into 
more  respectable. 

"  There  was  One  who  cleansed  from  such  accursed  traffic 
the  old  Jewish  temples,  but  He  walks  no  more  with 
humanity.  If  he  did,  would  he  not  walk  up  the  broad 
aisles  of  our  orthodox  churches  in  American  cities,  and 
release  these  doves,  and  overthrow  the  plots  of  these 
money-changers  ? 

"  But  let  me  tell  'em,  that  though  they  can't  see  Him, 
He  is  there  ;  and  the  lash  of  His  righteous  wrath  will 
surely  descend,  not  upon  their  bodies,  but  upon  their 
guilty  souls,  teachin'  them  how  much  more  terrible  it  is  to 
sell  a  life,  with  all  its  rich  dowery  of  freedom,  happiness, 
purity,  immortality." 

Here  my  breath  gin  out,  for  I  had  used  my  very  deep 
est  principle  tone ;  and  it  uses  up  a  fearful  ammount  of 
wind,  and  is  tuckerin'  beyend  what  any  one  could  ima 
gine  of  tucker.  You  have  to  stop  to  collect  breath. 

And  he  looked  at  me  with  that  same  sticldy,  patient, 
modest  look  of  hisen  ;  and  says  he,  in  that  low,  determined 
voice,  — 

"  What  you  say,  madam,  is  very  true,  and  even  beauti 
ful  and  eloquent :  but  time  is  valuable  to  me  ;  and  as  I 
said,  I  stopped  here  this  morning  to  see  if  I  could  sell  " ' — 

"  I  know  you  did :  I  heard  you  with  my  own  ears.  If 
it  had  come  through  two  or  three,  or  even  one,  pair  of  ears 
besides  my  own,  I  couldn't  have  believed  'em  —  I  never 
could  have  believed  that  any  human  creeter,  male  or 


SWEET  CICELY.  361 

female,  would  have  dared  to  stand  up  before  roe,  and  try 
to  sell  me  a  feller  !  Sell  a  feller  to  me  !  Why,  even  in  my 
young  days,  do  you  s'pose  I  would  ever  try  to  buy  a  feller? 

"  No,  sir !  fellers  must  come  free  and  spontaneous,  or 
not  at  all.  Never  was  I  the  woman  to  advance  one  step 
towards  any  feller  in  the  way  of  courtship  —  havin'  no 
occasion  for  it,  bein'  one  that  had  more  offers  than  I  knew 
what  to  do  with,  as  I  often  tell  my  husband,  Josiah  Allen, 
now,  in  our  little  differences  of  opinion.  4  Time  and  agin,' 
as  I  tell  him, c  I  might  have  married,  but  held  back.'  And 
never  would  I  have  married,  never,  had  not  love  gripped 
holt  of  my  very  soul,  and  drawed  me  along  up  to  the  mar 
riage  alter.  I  loved  the  feller  I  married,  and  he  was  the 
only  feller  in  the  hull  world  for  me." 

Says  he  in  that  low,  gentle  tone,  and  lookin'  modest 
and  patient  as  a  lily,  but  as  determined  and  sot  as  ever  a 
iron  teakettle  was  sot  over  a  stove,  — 

"  You  are  under  a  mistake,  mom." 

Says  I,  "  Don't  you  tell  me  that  agin  if  you  know  what 
is  good  for  yourself.  I  guess  I  know  my  own  mind.  I 
was  past  the  age  of  whifflin',  and  foolin'  round.  I  married 
that  feller  from  pure  love,  and  no  other  reason  under  the 
heavens.  For  there  wuzn't  any  other  reason  only  jest 
that,  why  I  should  marry  him." 

And  for  a  moment,  or  two  moments,  my  mind  roamed 
back  onto  that  old,  mysterious  question  that  has  haunted 
me  more  or  less  through  my  natural  life,  for  over  twenty 
years.  Why  did  I  marry  Josiah  Allen?  But  I  didn't 
revery  on  it  long.  I  was  too  agitated,  and  wrought  up ; 
and  I  says  agin,  in  tones  witherin'  enough  to  wither 
him,  — 


362  SWEET  CICELY. 

"  The  idee  of  sellin'  me  a  feller !  " 

But  the  chap  didn't  look  withered  a  mite  :  he  stood 
there  firm  and  immovible,  and  says  he,  — 

"  I  didn't  mean  no  offense,  mom.  Sellin'  attachments  is 
what  I  get  my  living  by  "  — 

"  Wall,  I  should  ruther  not  get  a  livin',"  says  I,  inter- 
ruptin'  of  him.  "  I  should  ruther  not  live." 

"  As  I  said,  mom,  I  get  my  livin'  that  way :  and  one  of 
your  neighbors  told  me  that  your  feller  was  an  old  one, 
and  sort  o'  givin'  out;  and  I  have  got  'em  with  all  the 
latest  improvements,  and  —  and  she  thought  mebby  I  could 
sell  you  one." 

"  You  miserable  coot  you  !  "  says  I.  "  Do  you  stop  your 
impudent  talk,  or  I  will  holler  to  Josiah.  What  do  you 
s'pose  I  want  with  another  feller  ?  Do  you  s'pose  I'd  swap 
Josiah  Allen  for  all  the  fellers  that  ever  swarmed  on  the 
globe  ?  What  do  you  s'pose  I  care  for  the  latest  improve 
ments  ?  If  a  feller  was  made  of  pure  gold  from  head  to 
feet,  with  diamond  eyes  and  a  garnet  nose,  do  you  s'pose 
he  would  look  so  good  to  me  as  Josiah  Allen  duz  ? 

"  And  I  would  thank  the  neighbors  to  mind  their  own 
business,  and  let  my  affairs  alone.  What  if  he  is  a  gettin' 
old  and  wore  out?  What  if  he  is  a  givin'  out?  He  is 
always  kinder  spindlin'  in  the  spring  of  the  year.  Some 
men  winter  harder  than  others :  he  is  a  little  tizicky,  and 
breathes  short,  and  his  liver  may  not  be  the  liver  it  was 
once ;  but  he  will  come  round  all  right  when  the  weather 
moderates.  And  mebby  they  meant  to  hint  and  insinuate 
sunthin'  about  his  bein'  so  bald,  and  losin'  his  teeth. 

"  But  I'll  let  you  know,  and  I'll  let  the  neighbors  know, 
that  I  didn't  marry  that  man  for  hair ;  I  didn't  marry 


SWEET   CICELY  363 

that  man  for  teeth:  and  a  few  locks  more  or  less,  or  a 
handful  of  teeth,  has  no  power  over  that  love,  —  that  love 
that  makes  me  say  from  the  very  depths  of  my  soul,  that 
my  feller  is  one  of  a  thousand." 

"  I  hain't  disputed  you,  mom,"  says  he,  with  his  firm, 
patient  look.  "  I  dare  presume  to  say  that  your  feller  was 
good  in  the  day  of  such  fellers.  But  every  thing  has  its 
day :  we  make  fellers  far-  different  now." 

Says  I  sarcasticly,  givin'  him  quite  a  piercin'  look,  "  I 
know  they  do :  I've  seen  'em." 

"  Yes,  they  make  attachments  now  very  different :  yours 
is  old-fashioned." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is :  T  know  that  love,  such  love  as  hisen 
and  mine,  and  I  know  that  truth  and  fidelity  and  con 
stancy,  are  old-fashioned.  But  I  thank  God  that  our  souls 
are  clothed  with  that  beautiful  old  fashion,  that  seamless, 
flawless  robe  that  wus  cut  out  in  Eden,  and  a  few  true 
souls  have  wore  ever  since." 

"  But  your  attachment  will  grow  older  and  older,  and 
give  out  entirely  after  a  while.  What  will  you  do  then?" 

"  My  attachment  will  never  give  out." 

"  But  mom  "  - 

"No,  you  needn't  argue  and  contend  —  I  say  it  will 
never  give  out.  It  is  a  heavenly  gift  dropped  down,  from 
above,  entirely  unbeknown.  True  love  is  not  sought 
after,  it  comes ;  and  when  it  comes,  it  stays.  Talk  about 
love  gettin'  old  —  love  never  grows  old ;  talk  about  love 
goin'  —  love  never  goes :  that  which  goes  is  not  love, 
though  it  has  been  called  so  time  and  agin.  Talk  about 
love  dyin'  —  why,  it  can't  die,  no  more  than  the  souls  can, 
in  which  its  sweet  light  is  born.  Why,  it  is  a  flame  that 


364 


SWEET  CICELY. 


God  Himself  kindles :  it  is  a  bit  of  His  own  brightness  a 
shinin'  down  through  the  darkness  of  our  earthly  life,  and 
is  as  immortal  and  indestructible  as  His  own  glory. 

"  It  is  the  only  fountain  of  Eternal  Youth  that  gushes 
up  through  this  dreary  earthly  soil,  for  the  refreshiii'  of 
men  and  wimmen,  in  which  the  weary  soul  can  bathe 
itself,  and  find  rest." 

"  Sometimes,"  says  he,  sort  o'  dreamily,  "  sometimes  we 
repair  old  fellers." 

"  Wall,  you  won't  repair  my  feller,  I  can  let  you  know 

that.  I  won't  have  him  re 
paired.  The  impudence  of 
the  hull  idee,"  says  I,  roustin' 
up  afresh,  "  goes  ahead  of  any 
thing  I  ever  dreamed  of,  of 
impudence.  Repair  my  feller  I 
I  don't  want  him  any  differ 
ent.  I  want  him  jest  as  he  is. 
I  would  scorn  to  repair  him. 
I  could  if  I  wanted  to,  —  his 
teeth  could  be  sharpened  up, 
what  he  has  got,  and  new 
ones  sot  in.  And  I  could 
cover  his  head  over  with  red 
curls;  or  I  could  paint  it 
black,  and  paste  transfer 
flowers  onto  it.  I  could  have 

a  sot  flower  sot  right  on  the  top  of  his  bald  head,  and  a 
trailin'  vine  runnin'  round  his  forward.  Or  I  could  trim 
it  round  with  tattin',  if  I  wanted  to,  and  crystal  beads. 
I  could  repair  him  up  so  he  would  look  gay.  But  do  you 


JOSIAH    AFTER    BEING 
REPAIRED. 


SWEET  CICELY.  365 

s'pose  that  any  artificials  that  was  ever  made,  or  any  hair, 
if  it  was  as  luxuriant  as  Ayer'ses  Vigor,  could  look  so 
good  to  me  as  that  old  bald  head  that  I  have  seen  a 
shiniii'  acrost  the  table  from  me  for  so  many  years? 

"  I  tell  you,  there  is  memories  and  joys  and  sorrows  a 
clusterin'  round  that  head,  that  I  wouldn't  swap  for  all 
the  beauty  and  the  treasures  of  the  world. 

"Memories  of  happy  mornin's  dewy  fresh,  with  cool 
summer  breezes  a  comiri'  in  through  the  apple-blows  by 
the  open  door,  and  the  light  of  the  happy  sunrise  a  shinin' 
on  that  old  bald  head,  and  then  gleamin'  off  into  my  happy 
heart. 

"  There  is  memories  of  pleasant  evenin'  hours,  with  the 
tea-table  drawed  up  in  front  of  the  south  door,  and  the 
sweet  southern  wind  a  comin'  in  over  the  roses,  and 
the  tender  light  of  the  sunset,  and  the  waverin'  shadows 
of  the  honeysuckles  and  morniii'-glorys,  fallin'  on  us, 
wrappin'  us  all  round,  and  wrappin'  all  of  the  rest  of  the 
world  out." 

Mebby  the  young  chap  said  sunthin'  here,  but  it  was 
entirely  unbeknown  to  me ;  though  I  thought  I  heard  the 
murmur  of  his  voice  makin'  a  sort  of  a  tinklin'  accompin- 
ment  to  my  thoughts,  sunthin'  like  the  babble  of  a  brook  a 
runnin'  along  under  forest  boughs,  when  the  wind  with  its 
mighty  melody  is  sweepin'  through  'em.  Great  emotions 
was  sweepin'  along  with  power,  and  couldn't  be  stayed. 
And  I  went  right  on,  not  sensiri'  a  thing  round  me,  — 

"There  is  memories  of  sabbath  drives,  in  fair  June 
mornin's,  through  the  old  lane  alder  and  willow  fringed, 
with  the  brook  runnin'  along  on  one  side  of  it ;  where  the 
speckled  trout  broke  the  Sunday  quiet  by  dancin'  up 


366 


SWEET  CICELY. 


through  the  brown  and  gold  shadows  of  the  cool  water, 
and  the  odor  of  the  pine  woods  jest  beyencl  comin'  fresh 
and  sweet  to  us. 

"Memories  of  how  that  road  and  that  face  looked  in 
the  week-day  dusk,  as  we  sot  out  for  the  revival  meetin', 


TO   THE   REVIVAL   MEETING." 

when  the  sun  had  let  down  his  long  bars  of  gold  and 
crimson  and  yellow,  and  had  got  over  'em,  and  sunk  down 
behind  'em  out  of  sight.  And  we  could  ketch  glimpses 
through  the  willow-sprays  of  them  shinin'  bars  a  layin' 
down  on  the  gray  twilight  field.  And  fur  away  over  the 
green  hills  and  woods  of  the  east,  the  moon  was  a  risin', 


SWEET  CICELY.  367 

big  and  calm  and  silvery.  And  we  could  hear  the  plain 
tive  evenin'  song  of  the  thrush,  and  the  crickets'  happy 
chirp,  till  we  got  nearer  the  schoolhouse,  when  they  sort  o' 
blended  in  with  'There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood,' 
and  4  Come,  ye  disconsolate.' 

"And  the  moonlight,  and  sister  Bobbet's  and  sister 
Minkly's  candles,  shone  down  and  out,  on  that  dear  old 
bald  head  as  his  hat  fell  off,  as  he  helped  me  out  of  the 
wagon. 

"Memories  of  how  T  have  seen  it  a  bendin'  over  the 
Word,  in  hours  of  peace  and  happiness,  and  hours  of  anxi 
ety  and  trouble,  a  readin'  every  time  about  the  eternal 
hills,  and  the  shadow  of  the  Rock,  and  the  Everlastin' 
Arms  that  was  a  holdin'  us  both  up,  me  and  Josiah,  and 
the  Everlastin'  Love  that  was  wrappin'  us  round,  helpin' 
us  onward  by  these  very  joys,  these  very  sorrows. 

"  Memories  of  the  midnight  lamp  lightin'  it  up  in  the 
chamber  of  the  sick,  in  the  long,  lonesome  hours  before 
day-dawn. 

"  Memories  of  its  bendin'  over  the  sick  ones  in  happier 
mornin's,  as  he  carried  'em  down-stairs  in  his  arms,  and  sot 
'em  in  their  old  places  at  the  table. 

"  Memories  of  how  it  looked  in  the  glare  of  the  tempest, 
and  under  the  rainbow  when  the  storm  had  passed.  It 
stands  out  from  a  background  of  winter  snows  and  summer 
sunshine,  and  has  all  the  shadows  and  brightness  of  them 
seasons  a  hangin'  over  it. 

"  Yes,  there  is  memories  of  sorrows  borne  by  both,  and 
so  made  holier  and  more  blessed  than  happiness.  That 
head  has  bent  with  mine  over  a  little  coffin,  and  over  open 
graves,  when  he  shared  my  anguish.  And  stood  by  me 


368  SWEET  CICELY. 

under  the  silent  stars,  when  he  shared  my  prayers,  my 
hopes,  for  the  future. 

"  That  old  bald  head  stands  up  on  the  most  sacred  height 
of  my  heart,  like  a  beacon ;  the  glow  of  the  soul  shines  on 
it ;  love  gilds  it.  And  do  you  s'pose  any  other  feller's  head 
on  earth  could  ever  look  so  good  to  me  as  that  duz  ?  Do 
you  s'pose  I  will  ever  have  it  repaired  upon  ?  never !  I 
won't  repair  him.  I  won't  have  him  dickered  and  fooled 
with.  Not  at  all. 

"  He'd  look  better  to  me  than  any  other  feller  that  ever 
walked  on  earth  if  he  hadn't  a  tooth  left  in  his  head,  or  a 
hair  on  his  scalp.  As  long  as  Josiah  Allen  has  got  body 
enough  left  to  wrap  round  his  soul,  and  keep  it  down  here 
on  earth,  my  heart  is  hisen,  every  mite  of  it,  jest  as  he  is 
too. 

"  And  I'll  thank  the  neighbors  to  mind  their  own  busi 
ness  ! "  says  I,  kinder  comin'  to  agin.  For  truly,  I  had 
soared  up  high  above  my  kitchen,  and  gossipin'  neighbors, 
and  feller-agents,  and  all  other  tribulations.  And  as  I  lit 
down  agin  (as  it  were),  .1  see  he  was  a  standin'  on  one  foot, 
with  his  watch,  a  big  silver  one,  in  his  hand,  and  gazin' 
pensively  onto  it ;  and  he  says,  — 

"  Your  remarks  are  worthy,  mom  —  but  somewhat 
lengthy,"  says  he,  in  a  voice  of  pain  ;  "  nearly  nine  mo 
ments  long :  but,"  says  he,  sort  o'  bracin'  up  agin  on  both 
feet,  "  I  beg  of  you  not  to  be  too  hasty.  I  did  not  come 
into  this  neighborhood  to  make  dissensions  or  broils.  I 
merely  stated  that  I  got  the  idee,  from  what  they  said,  that 
your  feller  didn't  work  good." 

"  Didn't  work  good !  You  impudent  creeter  you  !  What 
of  it  ?  What  if  he  don't  work  at  all  ?  What  earthly  busi- 


SWEET  CICELY.  369 

ness  is  it  of  yourn  or  the  neighbors  ?  I  guess  he  is  ahle 
to  lay  by  for  a  few  days  if  he  wants  to." 

"  You  are  laborin'  under  a  mistake,  mom." 

"  No,  I  hain't  laborin'  under  no  mistake  !  And  don't  you 
tell  me  agin  that  I  be.  We  have  got  a  good  farm  all  paid 
for,  and  money  out  on  interest ;  and  whose  business  is.  it 
whether  he  works  all  day,  or  don't.  When  I  get  to  goin' 
round  to  see  who  works,  and  who  don't ;  and  when  I  get 
so  low  as  to  wateh  my  neighbors  the  hull  of  the  time,  to 
find  out  every  minute  they  set  down ;  when  I  can't  find 
no  thin'  nobler  to  do,  —  I'll  spend  my  time  talkin'  about 
hens'  teeth,  and  lettis  seed." 

Says  he,  lookin'  as  amiable  and  patient  as  a  factory-cloth 
rag-babe,  but  as  determined  as  a  weepin'  live  one,  with  the 
colic,  — 

"  You  don't  seem  to  get  my  meaning.  I  merely  wished 
to  remark  that  I  could  fix  over  your  feller  if  you  wanted 
me  to  "  — 

Oh  !  how  burnin'  indignant  I  wuz  I  But  all  of  a  sudden, 
down  on  this  seethin'  tumult  of  anger  fell  this  one  calmin' 
word,  —  Meeting-house  !  I  felt  I  must  be  calm,  —  calm  and 
impressive  ;  so  says  I,  — 

"  You  need  not  repeat  your  infamous  proposal.  I  say  to 
you  agin,  that  the  form  where  Love  has  set  up  his  temple, 
is  a  sacred  form.  Others  may  be  more  beautiful,  and  even 
taller,  but  they  don't  have  the  same  look  to  'em.  It  is  one 
of  the  strangest  things,"  says  I,  fallin'  agin'  a  little  ways 
down  into  a  revery,  — 

"It  is  one  of  the  very  solemnest  things  I  ever  see, 
how  a  emotion  large  and  boundless  enough  to  fill  eternity 
and  old  space  itself,  should  all  be  gathered  up  and  ceii- 


370  SWEET  CICELY. 

tered  into  so  small  a  temple,  and  such  a  lookin'  one,  too, 
sometimes,"  says  I  pensively,  as  I  thought  it  over,  how 
sort  o'  meachin'  and  bashful  lookin'  Josiah  Allen  wuz, 
when  I  married  to  him.  And  how  small  his  weight  wuz 
by  the  steelyards.  But  it  is  so,  curious  it  can  be,  but  so 
it  is. 

"  Why  Love,  like  a  angel,  springs  up  in  the  heart  un 
awares,  as  Lot  entertained  another,  I  don't  know.  If  you 
should  ask  me  why,  I'd  tell  you  plain,  that  I  didn't  know 
where  Love  come  from ;  but  if  you  should  ask  me  where 
Love  went  to,  I  should  answer  agin  plain,  that  it  don't  go, 
it  stays.  The  only  right  way  for  pardners  to  come,  is  to 
come  down  free  gifts  from  above,  free  as  the  sun,  or 
the  showers  that  fall  down  in  a  drouth  —  and  perfectly 
unbeknown,  like  them.  Such  a  love  is  on  calculating 
givin'  all,  unquestionin',  unfearin',  no  dickerin',  no  holdin' 
back  lookin'  for  better  chances." 

"Yes,  mom,"  says  he,  a  twirlin'  his  hat  round,  and 
standin'  on  one  foot  some  like  a  patient  old  gander  in  the 
fall  of  the  year. 

"  Yes,  mom,  what  you  say  is  very  true ;  but  your  ele- 
quent  remarks,  your  very  sociable  talk,  has  caused  me  to 
tarry  a  longer  period  than  is  really  consistent  with  the 
claims  of  business.  As  I  told  you  when  I  first  come  in,  I 
merely  called  to  see  if  I  could  sell  you  "  — 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  did.  And  a  meaner,  low-liveder  pro 
posal  I  never  heard  from  mortal  lips,  be  he  male,  or  be  he 
female.  The  idee  of  me,  Josiah  Allen's  wife,  who  has 
locked  arms  with  principle,  and  has  kep'  stiddy  com 
pany  with  it,  for  years  arid  years  — the  idee  of  me  buyin' 
a  feller  !  I  dare  persume  to  say  "  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  371 

Says  I  more  mildly,  as  he  took  up  his  hat  and  little  box 
he  had,  and  started  for  the  door,  —  and  seein'  I  was  goin' 
to  get  rid  of  him  so  soon,  I  felt  softer  towards  him,  as 
folks  will  towards  burdens  when  they  are  bein'  lifted  from 
'em, — 

"  I  dare  persume  to  say,  you  thought  I  was  a  single 
woman,  havin'  been  told  time  and  agin,  that  I  am  young- 
lookin'  for  my  age,  and  fair  complected.  I  won't  think," 
says  I,  feelin'  still  softer  towards  him  as  I  see  him  a  openin' 
the  door,  — 

"  I  won't  think  for  a  minute  that  you  knew  who  it  was 
you  made  your  infamous  proposal  to.  But  never,  never 
make  it  agin  to  any  livin'  human  bein',  married  or  single." 

He  looked  real  sort  o'  meachin'  as  I  spoke ;  and  he  said 
in  considerable  of  a  meek  voice,  — 

"  I  was  talkin'  to  you  about  a  new  feller,  jest  got  up  by 
the  richest  firm  in  North  America." 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  to  me  who  he  belongs  to  ? 
I  don't  care  if  he  belongs  to  Vanderbilt,  or  Aster'ses 
family.  Principle  —  that  is  what  I  am  a  workin'  on  ;  and 
the  same  principle  that  would  hender  me  from  buyin'  a 
feller  that  was  poor  as  a  snail,  would  hender  me  from 
buyin'  one  that  had  the  riches  of  Creshus ;  it  wouldn't 
make  a  mite  of  difference  to  me. 

"As  the  poet  Mr.  Burns  says,  —  I  have  heard  Thomas 
J.  repeat  it  time  and  agin,  and  I  always  liked  it :  I  may 
not  get  the  words  exactly  right,  but  the  meaniii'  is,  — 

"  Rank  is  only  the  E  pluribus  Uiium  stamp,  on  the  trade 
dollar :  a  feller  is  a  feller  for  all  that." 

But  I'll  be  hanged  if  he  didn't,  after  all  my  expenditure 
of  wind  and  eloquence,  and  quotiii'  poetry,  and  every 


"  CAN'T  i  SELL  YOU  A  FELLEK  ? 


SWEET  CICELY.  373 

thing  —  if  he  didn't  turn  round  at  the  foot  of  that  door 
step,  and  strikin'  that  same  patient,  determined  attitude  of 
hisen,  say,  says  he,  — 

"  You  are  mistaken,  mom.  I  merely  stopped  this  mornin' 
to  see  if  I  could  sell  you  "  — 

But  I  jest  shet  the  door  in  his  face,  and  went  off  up 
stairs  into  the  west  chamber,  and  went  to  windin'  bobbin's 
for  my  carpet.  And  I  don't  know  how  long  he  stayed 
there,  nor  don't  care.  He  had  gone  when  I  come  down  to 
get  dinner,  and  that  was  all  I  cared  for. 

I  told  Josiah  about  it  when  he  and  the  boy  come  home ; 
and  I  tell  you,  my  eyes  fairly  snapped,  I  was  that  mad  and 
rousted  up  about  it :  but  he  said,  — 

"  He  believed  it  was  a  sewin'-machine  man,  and  wanted 
to  sell  me  a  feller  for  my  sewin'-machine.  He  said  he  had 
heard  there  was  a  general  agent  in  Jonesville  that  was  a 
sendin'  out  agents  with  all  sorts  of  attachments,  some  with 
hemmers,  and  some  with  fellers." 

But  I  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it :  I  believe  he  was 
mean.  A  mean,  low-lived,  insultin'  creeter. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WALL,  Cicely  died  in  June ;  and  how  the  days  will  pass 
by,  whether  we  are  joyful  or  sorrowful !  And  before  we 
knew  it  (as  it  were),  September  had  stepped  down  old 
Time's  dusty  track,  and  appeared  before  us,  and  curchied 
to  us  (allegory). 

Ah,  yes  !  time  passes  by  swiftly.  As  the  poet  observes, 
In  youth  the  days  pass  slowly,  in  middle  life  they  trot, 
and  in  old  age  they  canter. 

But  the  time,  though  goin'  fast,  had  passed  by  very 
quietly  and  peacefully  to  Josiah  Allen  and  me. 

Every  thing  on  the  farm  wus  prosperous.  The  children 
was  well  and  happy;  the  babe  beautiful,  and  growin' 
more  lovely  every  day. 

Ury  had  took  his  money,  and  bought  a  good  little  house 
and  4  acres  of  land  in  our  neighborhood,  and  had  took 
our  farm  for  the  next  and  ensuin'  year.  And  they  was 
happy  and  contented.  And  had  expectations.  They  had 
(under  my  direction)  took  a  tower  together,  and  the 
memory  of  her  lonely  pilgrimage  had  seemed  to  pass  from 
Philury's  mind. 

The  boy  wus  a  gettin'  healthier  all  the  time.  And  he 
behaved  better  and  better,  most  all  the  time. 

374 


SWEET   CICELY.  375 

I  had  limited  him  down  to  not  ask  over  50  questions 
on  one  subject,  or  from  50  to  60 ;  and  so  we  got  along 
first-rate. 

And  we  loved  him.  Why,  there  hain't  no  telliii'  how 
we  did  love  him.  And  he  would  talk  so  pretty  about  his 
ma !  I  had  learned  him  to  think  that  he  would  see  her 
binie  by,  and  that  she  loved  him  now  jest  as  much  as  ever, 
and  that  she  wanted  him  to  be  a  good  boy. 

And  he  wuz  a  beautiful  boy,  if  his  chin  wuz  sort  o' 
weak.  He  would  try  to  tell  the  truth,  and  do  as  I  would 
tell  him  to  —  arid  would,  a  good  deal  of  the  time.  And 
he  would  tell  his  little  prayers  every  night,  and  repeat  lots 
of  Scripture  passages,  and  would  ask  more'n  100  questions 
about  'em,  if  I  would  let  him. 

There  was  one  verse  I  made  him  repeat  every  night 
after  he  said  his  prayers  :  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
for  they  shall  see  God." 

And  I  always  would  say  to  him,  earnest  and  deep,  that 
his  ma  was  pure  in  heart. 

And  he'd  say,  "  Does  she  see  God  now  ?  " 

And  I'd  say,  "Yes." 

And  he  would  say,  "  When  shall  I  see  Him  ?  " 

And  I'd  say,  "  When  you  are  good  enough." 

And  he'd  say,  "  If  I  was  good  enough,  could  I  see  Him 
now  ?  " 

And  I  would  say,  "  Yes." 

And  then  he  would  tell  me  that  he  would  try  to  be 
good ;  and  I  would  say,  "  Wall,  so  do." 

And  late  one  afternoon,  a  bright,  sunny  afternoon,  he 
got  tired  of  playin'.  He  had  been  a  horse,  and  little  Let 
Peedick  had  been  a  drivin'  him.  I  had  heard  'em  a 


3T6 


SWEET  CICELY. 


whinnerin'  out  in  the  yard,  and  a  prancin',  and  a  hitchin' 
each  other  to  the  post. 

But  he  had  got  tired  about  sundown,  and  come  in,  and 
leaned  up  against  my  lap,  and  asked  me  about  88  ques 
tions  about  his  ma  and.  the  City.  He  had  never  forgot 
what  his  uncle  Josiah  had  read  about  it,  and  he  couldn't 
seem  to  talk  enough  about  it. 

And   says  he,  with  a   dreamy  look  way  off  into   the 


THE  BOY  AND  LET  PEEDICK  PLAYING  HOUSE. 

glowin'  western  sky,  "  My  mamma  Cicely  said  it  would 
swing  right  down  out  of  heaven  some  day,  and  would 
open,  and  I  could  walk  in ;  and  don't  you  believe  mamma, 
will  stand  just  inside  of  the  gate  as  she  used  to,  and  say, 
4  Here  comes  my  own  little  boy '  ?  " 

And  he  wus  jest  a  askin'  me  this,  —  and  it  beats  all, 
how  many  times  he  had  tackled  me  on  this  very  subject,  — 


SWEET  CICELY.  377 

when  Whitfteld  drove  up  in  a  great  hurry.  Little  Saman- 
tha  Joe  had  been  taken  sick,  very  sick,  and  extremely 
sudden. 

Scarlet-fevei*  was  round,  and  she  and  the  boy  had  both 
been  exposed. 

I  was  all  excitement  and  agitation  ;  and  I  hurried  off 
without  changin'  my  dress,  or  any  thing.  But  I  told 
Josiah  to  put  the  boy  to  bed  about  nine. 

Wall,  there  was  a  uncommon  sunset  that  night.  The 
west  was  all  aflame  with  light.  And  as  we  rode  on 
towards  Jonesville  right  towards  it,  —  though  very  anx 
ious  about  the  babe,  —  I  drawed  Whitfield's  attention  to 
it. 

The  hull  of  the  west  did  look,  for 'all  the  world,  like  a 
great,  shinin'  white  gate,  open,  and  inside  all  full  of  radi- 
ence,  rose,  and  yellow,  and  gold  light,  a  streamin'  out,  and 
changin',  and  glowin',  movin'  about,  as  clouds  will. 

It  seemed  sometimes,  as  if  you  could  almost  see  a 
white,  shadowy  figure,  inside  the  gate,  a  lookin'  out,  and 
watchin'  with  her  arms  reached  out ;  and  then  it  would 
all  melt  into  the  light  again,  as  clouds  will. 

It  wus  the  beautifulest  sunset  I  had  seen,  that  year,  by 
far.  And  we  s'pose,  from  what  we  could  learn  afterwards, 
that  the  boy,  too,  was  attracted  by  that  wonderful  glory 
in  the  west,  and  strolled  out  to  the  orchard  to  look  at  it. 
It  wus  a  favorite  place  with  him,  anyway.  And  there  wus 
a  certain  tree  that  he  loved  to  lay  under.  A  sick-no-fur 
ther  apple.  It  wus  the  very  tree  I  found  him  under  that 
day  in  the  spring,  a  lookin'  up  into  the  sky,  a  watchin'  for 
the  City  to  come  down  from  heaven.  You  could  see  a 
good  ways  from  there  off  into  the  west,  and  out  over  the 


3rTQ 
i o 


.  SWEET  CICELY. 


lake.     And  the  sunset  must  have  looked  beautiful  from 
there,  anyway. 

Wall,  my  poor  companion  Josiah  wus  all  rousted  up  in 
his  mind  about  the  babe,  and  he  never  thought  of  the  boy 
till  it  was  half-past  nine  ;  and  then  he  hurried  off  to  find 


PAUL  LOOKING  AT  THE  SUNSET. 


him,  skairt,  but  s'posen  he  was  up  on  his  bed  with  his 
clothes  on,  or  asleep  on  the  lounges,  or  carpets,  or  some 
where. 

But  he  couldn't  find  him  :  he  hunted  all  over  the  house, 
and  out  in  the  barn,  and  the  door-yard,  and  the  street ;  and 
then  he  rousted  up  Mr.  Gowdey's  folks,  our  nearest  neigh 
bors,  to  see  if  they  could  help  find  him. 


SWEET  CICELY.  379 

Wall,  Miss  Gowdey,  when  she  wus  a  bringiii'  in  her 
clothes,  —  it  was  Monday  night,  —  she  had  seen  him  out 
in  the  orchard  under  the  sick-no-further  tree. 

And  there  they  found  him,  fast  asleep  —  where  they 
s'pose  he  had  fell  asleep  unexpected  to  himself. 

It  wus  then  almost  eleven  o'clock,  and  he  was  wet  with 
dew :  the  dew  was*  heavy  that  night.  And  when  they 
rousted  him  up,  he  was  so  hoarse  he  couldn't  speak.  And 
before  mornin'  he  was  in  a  high  fever.  They  sent  for 
me  and  the  doctor  at  daybreak.  Little  Samantha  Joe 
wus  better :  it  only  proved  to  be  a  hard  cold  that  ailed 
her. 

But  the  boy  had  the  scarlet-fever,  so  the  doctor  said. 
And  he  grew  worse  fast.  He  didn't  know  me  at  all  when 
I  got  home,  but  wus  a  talkin'  fast  about  his  mamma  Cicely  ; 
and  he  asked  me  "  If  the  gate  had  swung  down,  for  him  to 
go  through  into  the  City,  and  if  his  mamma  was  inside, 
reachin'  out  her  arms  to  him  ?  " 

And  then  he  would  get  things  all  mixed  up,  and  talk 
about  things  he  had  heard  of,  and  things  he  hadn't  heard 
of.  And  then  he  would  talk  about  how  bright  it  was 
inside  the  gate,  and  how  he  see  it  from  the  orchard.  And 
so  we  knew  he  had  been  attracted  out  by  the  bright  light 
in  the  west. 

And  then  he  would  talk  about  the  strangest  things. 
His  little  tongue  couldn't  be  still  a  minute  ;  but  it  never 
could,  for  that  matter. 

Till  along  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  he  become 
quiet,  and  grew  so  white  and  still  that  I  knew  before  the 
doctor  told  me,  that  we  couldn't  keep  the  boy. 

And  I  thought,  and  couldn't  help  it,  of  what  Cicely  had 


380 


SWEET  CICELY. 


worried  so  about ;  and  though  my  heart  sunk  down  and 
down,  to  think  of  givin'  the  boy  up,  —  for  I  loved  him,  - — 
yet  I  couldn't  help  thinkin'  that  with  his  temperament, 
and  as  the  laws  was  now,  the  grave  was  about  the  only 
place  of  safety  that  the  Lord  Himself  could  find  for  the 
boy. 

And  it  wus  about  sundown  that  he  died.     I  had  been 


"SAY!" 


down-stairs  for  some  thin'  for  him  ;  and  as  I  went  back  into 
the  room,  I  see  his  eyes  was  wide  open,  and  looked  nat 
ural. 

And  as  I  bent  over  him,  he  looked  up  at  me,  and  said  in 
a  faint  voice,  but  rational,  — 

"Say"- 

And  I  couldn't  help  a  smilin'  right  there,  with  the  tears 


SWEET  CICELY.  381 

a  runnin'  down  my  face  like  rain-water.  He  wanted  to 
ask  some  question. 

But  he  couldn't  say  110  more.  His  little,  eager,  ques- 
tionin'  soul  was  too  fur  gone  towards  that  land  where  the 
hard  questions  we  can't  answer  here,  will  be  made  plain 
to  us. 

But  he  looked  up  into  my  face  with  that  sort  of  a  ques- 
tionin'  look,  and  then  up  over  my  head,  and  beyend  it  — 
and  beyend  —  and  I  see  there  settled  down  over  his  face 
the  sort  of  a  satisfied  look  that  he  would  have  when  I  had 
answered  his  questions ;  and  I  sort  o'  smiled,  and  said  to 
myself,  I  guessed  the  Lord  had  answered  it. 

And  so  he  went  through  the  gate  of  the  City,  and  was 
safe.  And  that  is  the  way  God  took  care  of  the  boy. 


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Holley,  M. 
Sweet  Cicely. 


PS 1949 

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